blip (from Cuckoo)

life is an accident

a random spark in a pool of haphazardly gathered chaos

sure

in the end it is all meaningless

but look at all the beauty that was created to try and force some sort of order on it all

neurotic little apes seeking to place the spilled matchsticks into order

casting stereotypes to explain abhorrent behaviors with a celestial brush self servingly elevating themselves at the expense of others to justify moral supremacy

but empty like every prayer to the unblinking painted orb projected through ones and zeros into the wavy haze of an infinity we cannot comprehend

there is beauty in every second of everyday

even if it is constructed of the worst feelings

a pool of infinite sorrow is as perfect as a cloud or a smile or a tree or anything else that trips the receptors in gelatinous electro/chemical reactionary happenstance

pain is a tempest of colors half a nanometer from pleasure

people believe nihilism is shades of gray because all they see is black or white

maybe colors get lost when every moment is made in baseless hope for some reward in the afterlife that makes actual living just a hurdle

none of it matters

so find every shade, every hue imaginable

this is a blip

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