Think about how little your life means in the whole course of things. Every fraction of a second, someone dies. The computer that is the world, never ceasing, never ending, changes the 1 listed to a 0 by every persons name, at one time or another. Sure, if someone dies, the family might be a little bereaved, the friends of the individual even less so, but what does this one person's death mean to the wider picture? Nothing. Nothing at fucking all.

I always felt stupid for realizing that Bruce Willis' character in the Sixth Sense was dead only at the end of the movie. But, since then, I've realized that I have absolutely no clue whether I'm alive or dead. What I am typing now might just be thoughts in a soul that has long departed the realm of the living, a dream that I am just an actor in, or something like that. My perception is nothing that assures me, either, as I can just create all of this or just be a creation of another individual. Whenever someone ignores me, these feelings of doubt creep into my mind and I have to try all that much harder to ensure that I am not just a spectator in the drama called life.

If I do exist on this earth, if I am able to communicate with other people, and I am the only actor controlling my actions, there is still too much to be left to the unknown. As I am walking through the back alley to my dorm, I could slip on any of about one hundred scattered pieces of ice, leading to a series of events that could ultimately lead to my death. So many things could happen with each breath I draw in that it totally boggles the mind, and people just really take their existence for granted. I am not trying to set myself up as an "enlightened" person by any stretch of the imagination - I know that I take my life for granted about 99% of the time. In fact, the only times when I actually get a glimpse of what exactly it takes to stay alive - the sheer probabilities of the matter alone, are when a work, whether it be a book, movie, or piece of art, inspires me so.

So many innovations and so much has been done by the individuals that have preceded me to make my life easier that again it is just baffling. I sit here typing on my computer, talking to a friend on instant messenger through a series of electronic impulse over incredible distances. We, as the human race, have created such a dialogue with the world around us with structures so thin that it seems only a matter of time before they [the structures] fall to earth like so many cards. Over sixty years ago, individuals found a way to divide one of the fundamental units that all existence is made from - the atom - and in doing that, have devised a weapon so deadly that it could conceivably kill all life on this planet.

And here I sit, a sophomore in one of hundreds of the colleges in the United States alone, thinking my life, what I deem struggles, are important at all to the world. I lie to myself every second of every day - whatever I do, whether it be write a piece for my magazine, make love to a significant other, go to class, or any other of the myriad of choices that I have every day, does not mean anything to the larger picture. I have to construct for myself this whole dichotomy that if I do not do the motions of everyday life, the world will stop without my intervention. That is an utter and blatant lie. Deep down inside, we all know that if we were to die right now, that nothing would happen, nothing would be changed on this rock, one of literally trillions like it, in a space that we are not able to conceive using our intellects.


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