I sit alone somewhere isolated, far from noisy eyes, thinking. Existence. Yes. I exist. Or at least that’s what I think, and I was made to believe so. I wonder. How, of all the infinite possibilities of basically everything else, that I actually came to this so-called existence? Why? Why am I here? Just thinking about the microscopic chance that there is such a sentient being as me makes me restless. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll believe any claims on this subject at the moment. Such matters are still unresolved and are probably going to remain like so. The world right now seems like a tiny knot where all ends seem to meet, and each string of infinite length going outwards into oblivion. The concept of infinity is just too broad to grasp. This is the cause of my skepticism.  Moreover, people right now overuse this magnificent word without realizing its elusiveness to mere human understanding. If infinity has an extent, what is beyond it? If it doesn’t, does it simply go around? If so, on what plane does it go around on? There are countless questions and speculations to go around with. Thinking about this can really make you feel small and insignificant. You may be the most powerful man in the world, but coming to a realization that the earth, is nothing more than a speck on the solar system, the solar system a mere spot in the milky way, the list stretching into infinity, reduces you into something closer to nothing. Then again, what exactly is nothingness? It seems so familiar and yet so indefinite once again.


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