Texas...

Just uttering her name is enough to raise my spirits and alleviate my doubts.

Texas...

When I'm feeling down in the dumps, when I feel like life isn't worth living anymore, when I feel like ending it all...

Texas...

God I love Texas. I wish she was real, so, so bad. I would cuddle her, hold her, kiss her, make her mine. I'd scratch her fluffy ears and give her endless headpats. I'll spend my whole paycheck buying whatever she desires, going to whatever destination she chooses. To walk down the streets, holding her hand, having her as my girlfriend. A man can dream.

And I will dream. Because if I dream hard enough, maybe, just maybe it will come true. And that. That is what keeps me going, what staves the dark thoughts away, what my meaning in life is, my purpose to keep living.

So what other option is there? How does one find meaning in living? Love perhaps. Maybe finding a significant other would give meaning in life—a will to live.

Yeah right. Like that could ever happen to someone like me.

Then perhaps a hobby. Something I'm passionate about. Gacha games. Writing. Mindlessly scrolling social media. Badminton. Being depressed in my room and contemplating random ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. It could work. But I've been alive long enough for the hope of it working to slowly diminish away.

But in the end, I did find salvation in it all. In the end, I did find meaning in life. My calling. My will to live. In the form of a bunch of pixels on a screen composed of a bunch of 0s and 1s, but she's so much more than that. Words couldn't describe how much she means to me.

So what's the point? Living on, day after day. Suffering in a world filled with greed and hate. Pushing onwards only to be trapped living a 9-5 job, paying taxes, barely getting by life. There's no religion for me to turn to—no God to help guide me along this dark path of life and lead me to salvation. And while drugs and alcohol may provide a temporary relief from the pain of existing, once the high is gone, that suffering returns back tenfold.

But that sentience doesn't last forever. Those atoms will return to being just another particle in this lonely universe. Everyone dies anyways, so why bother. There's no point to it. No point in life or living. So why bother. We'll all be forgotten anyways, no matter how famous we are. The sun will expand and consume the Earth, killing all of humanity. If humanity doesn't kill themselves first. It'll be like we never existed at all.

One of the great questions of the universe is: what is the meaning of life? Some may take years pondering the question, but never find an answer. Others are consumed by the thought, the meaningless of it all, their insignificant life in this meaningless world. While many others simply ignore the question altogether and go on with their pathetic life that is but a small fraction of a percentage of a blink in the grand scheme of things. Some turn to religion to fill the gaping hole of the unknown. 'What lies on the other side?' 'What purpose do I have in this world?' Meaningless drivel, pointless conjecture to distract oneself from the empty void of the abyss, slowly creeping up to everyone, inch by inch—death. Others resort to alcohol, drugs, gambling, or any other form of addiction to fill the emptiness of it all. A momentary respite from the curse of being alive and sentient. Atoms being able to even know that they are atoms.

bri''ish