Absurd

Greed keeps man alive — the greed to achieve, to surpass, to carve meaning into the void.
It is what keeps you awake at night, what shields you from the abyss of stagnation.
Not a death preordained, but a choice at birth — a silent contract with existence.
A change of pace, a fleeting comfort — within the right mind — a notion.
A notion of contentment, of shame, of love or hate, of discipline or passion.

We speak of purpose as though it were an ethereal thing, distant and unknowable.
But it is not. Purpose is chosen, constructed, imposed.
It is a choice — to find meaning in every moment, in the seemingly meaningless tasks at hand.
In the things we take for granted, in the people who love us for who we are
To find meaning in the meaningless is the ultimate rebellion.
To turn the absurd into art, into movement, into will.

To perceive the prescribed perceptions of others, to reject the absurdity, to feel the surge of creation.
Yet it consumes you. It strips you bare.
To lie to yourself, to validate yourself — is this not the eternal game?
If only you could capture it — might there be a drug for it — then perhaps everything would align.

Man is fragile. You are fragile. Consciousness makes you unique, but also cursed.
And in the end, it will strip you of everything — your loved ones, your past, your memory, your– self.
Yet still, you chase this– ultimate greed. You chase it for so long, for nothing.
Content in your indifference, yet still seeking– arrogantly, relentlessly, defiantly.

Because to do otherwise is to die before death itself.