November 29, 2023 in The Beginning

Every time I decide to write an entry on here, I feel empty. I want to write on here more but I often feel that I have nothing to say. I feel unsatisfied with my life, which admittedly I always have felt but I have no idea what I want out of my life. I don’t mind being me but I wish I was a better version of myself or a different type of man. I’ve been thinking about my family lineage recently, it’s something that interests me. How my family has lasted generations through wars, epidemics, and all other sorts of crises that come with living. How both sides of my family immigrated to the United States in the 19th century and since then how our family has grown. Thinking about my ancestors gives me a weird feeling. They’re strangers, many of them dead long before you’re alive and only a name to know them by. No paintings or photos to physically see who they were yet at the same time they’re family. I wonder how many of them thought about the future of our lineage. I wonder how their lives turned out. I wonder who they were like as people, do I share a personality of a family member who lived three generations ago? I wonder if I will ever be able to meet them in the big valley where no one ever dies. I wonder if I ever disappoint them with who I am. If an afterlife doesn’t exist then how utterly disappointed I am then to never know such questions and how empty my existence truly is.

EDIT: Henry Kissinger is dead. Perhaps there is a meaning to life after all. Rest in piss.

Last updated November 30, 2023