And So Begins The Futile, Lifelong Struggle To Exercise Control

Much of life is spent in a frustrating and futile attempt to exercise some kind of control over this cruel and disinterested world of pain and absurdity. We buy things, we make plans, we chase ambitions, all in the hope that somehow we will be spared from death. We seek power as if such a thing is even within our capacity to obtain. Perhaps, we wrongly think to ourselves, if I can master the rules of the game then I can win the game, not realizing that there is no game, there is only the slow march towards death (that suddenly appears to have been very fast indeed, the moment before its completion). Of course, we were not always this way. There was a brief period in our youthful innocence when we were unaware of the consequences, happy simply to be ourselves in the moment, passively absorbing, experiencing, sometimes even enjoying whatever the world chose to give us. Today we are all this sad baby, despairingly unaware of the fact (even us, even now) that we can hit the space bar as many times as we want and it doesn’t matter, because the space bar doesn’t exist. There is only death. (Thanks for the tip, werttrew!)