Typing words into the void
There is a hopelessness about blogging.
It's a consequential act of debasement and self-sabotage. We write down these words, bringing what is inside us out into the world for potentially anyone and most likely no one to ever see, or read, or consider.
We can shout or whimper or state proudly, thumping our fists against our chest until the righteous rage in our minds bleeds out of our bludgeoned skin. And yet, nothing has changed.
The howling wilderness of the internet will continue on, pushed by money and the abuse of the precious attention of everyone we have cared about. Pictures of evil monsters dressed in the skin and voices of attractive humans will beacon us to cast off our own thought, our own volition. Our attention will be sucked from our eyeballs by those who only want to bleed us dry of any resource they have even the slightest chance of monetizing.
Nobody does anything because its right. Nobody does anything because it matters.
And so we are left with this urge to make the world a better place. We are left with no tools, no reason, no attention, no time, no love in our crushed little hearts, no peace in our beclouded little minds, no focus in our infinitesimal wills.
And we write blogs about it for no one to read. And our blogs create the litter that makes up the void.
Because the void, it turns out is not filled with nothing. The spaces between the stars are teeming with broken promises, made in silence, and forgotten the next moment. They are made of all the things any sentient being has ever wanted to do, but got sidetracked from. The infinite space of the void is made out of all the words that we never had the time to squeeze into conversations, and then forgot when it was finally our turn to speak. And instead, we raised our eyebrows, shrugged some gesture of confusion or embarrassment, or uncertainty.
We wrote rambling nothing posts like this, because the need to share outweighed the forethought that went into acting on that impulse, and in so doing, we caused the stars to drift apart.
The whole universe is alive, and it feels just exactly as shitty, and alone, and overjoyed, and afraid as you do.
