Nothing Matters

Literally, nothing matters.

This is all just a big fucking game, and I’m not sure anybody comes out a winner.

Literally, nothing matters.

I won’t be thinking about how well I performed at work five years from now. Now that I think of it, I will probably be kicking myself for not using all of my sick days.

Nothing fucking matters

I won’t remember the reasons for not doing whatever the fuck I wanted. I won’t remember the feelings I’ve hurt.

I won’t remember being hurt. I won’t remember what hurt me. I won’t remember taking anything personally.

Nothing matters. Seriously, it doesn’t.

I’ll only have a few memories to fall back on, and even then, I might forget them later on. There might be a day where I will wake up and forget any of this ever happened. The past won’t mean anything because, spoiler alert, it never has. The future won’t mean anything because, another spoiler alert, you’ll never catch it. All I’ll ever have is now.

Nothing fucking matters.

And yet, I’ve spent so much time dwelling on shit like it was all that mattered. If I could be wrong about all of this, what else could I have been wrong about?

Nothing matters.

That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give a shit about what I’m doing now; on the contrary; I’m going to care more than I ever have. From here on out, I have to remember that it doesn’t fucking matter in the end.