None of it comes with us.

There never was a better day.

The day I realized I was nothing.

The day I found out that none of it matters, which completely frees up all my mental storage from being overwhelmed with all of the things I want to do. None of it comes with us. It all goes away in a fleeting infinitude, holding every imaginable potential inside the tiniest of moments.

Blinking away the universe, the sun rays casting shadows in your lashes, evaporating your tears backwards in time as you navigate the spiraling sadness for the loss of everything. The forward pull of a black hole sucking in all the creation surrounding the middle. The never ending story of your life, as you play human, pretending not to know you’re God, pretending not to understand the fate of it all. Imagining that it could all end any other way than implosion.

Wishing you could just tell everyone the truth, and that in believing you they would change. They would stop everything and just love.

There’s a woman and her best friend in a small shop in Seoul, and they sell the Korean version of sushi. There’s a famous Japanese sushi chef that has opened 12 restaurants across the entire world, on different continents, selling his version of sushi.

These people are the same.

The Korean woman is married to a German man and they only understand a few words of each other’s language. The Japanese chef speaks many languages and has friends all over the planet.

The Korean woman lives off of the small amount of money she makes in the restaurant. The Japanese chef is millionaire.

They are both happy.

They are the same.

Both have carved a life out of the unknowable future into the design of their choosing. Neither compromise their happiness. Both have loved ones in their life all day long. Neither are lonely. Both have lived a full life, knowing heart ache and regret, but neither would trade their collective life experience for having it been made easier by knowing the outcome of the sad times.

The emotions, experience, solitude, joy, and successes, have all been building blocks. Neither would be the same without having done everything they’ve done. Both are content. Both know satisfaction. Both are fulfilled.

Up until a few minutes ago, I’ve never considered the fact that everything I have done, is exactly what I was supposed to do, both backwards and forwards in time, each instant moving pieces onto the next, fitting the puzzle of life together on a whim, exploding my unrealized desires into fiery plumes of experience while at the same time grinding every other possible outcome derived from thought into the smallest of future possibilities, like courageously small dust particles of memory, held together only by each other, homogeneously smashed together under the universe’s pestle inside the mortar of time.

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