My life on this Earth isn’t remarkable.
I don’t see anything coming of it, of the short time that I’ll be here complaining, trying to help others when I can’t even help myself.
But still, I try to say things, to write things that make people think. All I ever hope for with all of this ‘philosophy’ or whatever they call it is to help guide people towards a more profound life. I’m not here to make points. I’m not here to tell you what to believe in. It is up to you to figure that out for yourself. I just wish I could have led you to figure that out on your own.
I write to change lives. My hope is that somewhere out there I will have changed one life, no matter how miniscule that change is, as long as it was for the better. Perhaps I will write for years and years, over hundreds of pages, and through thousands of hours. But that one life is what truly matters.
Maybe I’ll be criticized from all sides. Maybe people will think I’m dumb, will mock me for my poor grammar, or will just bash the things I have to say. I don’t care. At the end of the day—at the end of my life—if I could have helped someone through my words and my thoughts, that’s worth it all.
Now I’m not trying to be just another guy with deep thoughts, deep words, or whatever. I don’t even see that in myself. I’m just an ordinary person. But aren’t we all? What makes anyone more extraordinary than the next person, except by his own perception of himself?
Sometimes I really struggle with my thoughts and how I can most properly express them. Hell, sometimes I just struggle with myself and the thoughts I think. And that’s exactly what I use to say the things I do. Because we’re all people, we all have problems, and even though we’re all the same in that way, all we really want is to be different. Or at least feel like we are.
Maybe my need to make others think, to make others realize what they have on this world, is just an extension of what I want for myself. Because I’m my own greatest cynic. How can someone preach something and not follow it? So I constantly reinvent myself, search for something better, for something I’ve missed, but I never really get anywhere. All I wish is that I’ve helped others find themselves as I search for who I am. For this, I never meant to be profound. I never wanted to sound arrogant. And for this, maybe I am emptily profound.
But who am I, you ask?
I am nobody. For every aspect of what is me is an aspect that comes from the history of Man and his experiences before me. So who am I but a part of everybody—-who am I but not myself, but nobody? And once the day comes that I have filled this cup full of knowledge, I shall empty it. And then, I shall become an individual.
