Stupid Question
Laying in bed tonight, I was struck with something very obvious. So obvious, it's deeply important to me. It's the central question that causes me so many sleepless nights of calculating and weighing experiences, so much hopeless pattern searching and uncertainty. Simply: Does life work out the way it's supposed to, or does it just work out the way it does? Do we get out of life what we make of things, or do we just get whatever we can grab? I don't know the answer. It could be any one of these, or any two, or any three, or all four, or none of them. Is there justice? Is it survival of the fittest? Is there God or Quantum Mechanics? A set future or infinite possibility? I can make a strong argument for any possibility. I feel strongly about each. And when I'm writing about the tension between these choices, that is when I'm writing something I care about. Because, for some reason, I care about his stupid question. Again, it's so obvious