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A Questioning of Existence
What does all this mean?
What is the point of all this?
What is my purpose?
As I have pondered,
I came across a startling revelation.
Am I here to create the next generation?
Am I here to make this place better?
Am I here to make it worse?
Yet the answer is none.
None of these petty, insignificant reasons.
Excuses.
No. I am here for one reason,
And one reason only.
The reason is thus.
America, this entire plane of existence,
Is nothing.
We live to die,
So that some creature,
Quite possibly a higher entity,
Yet unknown to ourselves,
Can live on.
I am an insignificant particle of dust.
We are all part of this endless cycle.
Why am I here?
Well, the answer to that is really quite simple, actually.
I am, and at the same time not, here.
Everything we know is the truth.
Yet it is a lie.
Everything is real.
Yet it is false.
There is no purpose.
Again, what does this all mean?
It means nothing.
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