Signifying Nothing

"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage... and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." - Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

[2014]

Frustrated, I slammed the vaporizer violently against the ground as I walked to my bus stop. The sound of the crack was excruciatingly refreshing, as paradoxical as it sounds. Tiny shreds of glass splashing on the road felt like scratching a intense itch, a mental itch, and I savored the end of the vaporizer as if it was a living annoyance meeting death.

I've spent, like, a week taking proper care of it, making sure it was giving off the right vapor and that the liquid was clean, but it kept giving me problems. Sometimes it wouldn't give off vapor, just liquid would swim from the top, and it was making weird noises. It was fucking annoying.

No excess time was spent maintaining it, but the concentration and consideration utilized irritated my brain each time it would malfunction later on in the day. All for nothing.

Drops of concentration and care dripping into the holder of investment just destroyed, blown away into oblivion and forgotten and abandoned moments in time.

Life, experience, whatever this thing that consciousness interacts with, is just waiting to die and be forgotten - swept away by the wave of time. At its core, all we have is experience and memories, anything outside of those two factors doesn't mean anything to the living organism. We can only experience and remember, that's what consciousness is. It's what makes us a "thing."

I'm destined to receive Alzheimer's, it's hereditary and will arrive to me when I'm older. Alzheimer's numbs your experience to the point in where you can't even recognize your surroundings, and it also erases your memories. It's death worse than physical death.

All these investments and labor are destined to be not just destroyed, but erased from the plane of existence and eternity. It's like a struggle and conflict to erect a sand castle, and as you build it, you know, eventually an ocean wave will arrive and not just destroy it, but eliminate any trace of it existing in the first place.

Things are getting better, but for the past few months I've been demoralized as fuck. Everything that I worked for, decisions and things that I planned out very carefully and protected were just destroyed by random chaos. I'm in a position to rebuild, reconstruct, but I can't help but think "what for?"

Construct beautiful music and master the guitar, just to receive a hand injury and lose all the investment and energy that I placed into the skill? Be the best boyfriend I can be, concentrate and work on every decision that I make and have all that concern be forgotten about when the relationship turns sour and my work and energy is ignored or never recognized?

I'm tired and disgruntled, weary,  and I'm lethargic in my ambitions. The track and sound of "Clint Eastwood" clothes my scent as I exhale marijuana smoke which comforts and closes my eyes in lazy and apathetic demoralization.

Fucking *yawn*.

Fuck it.

This is not weakness or lack of will. I'm fulfilling personal obligations and goals, but I compulsively announce, "what's the point?"

I note that there's no cameras to record the experience of the experiencer at all times, just myself, the experiencer, searching into the depths of my memories to present this as if it meant something...

 

 

[2019]

I'm in the future, and now I can tell that I was wrong. It meant something. Every kiss I gave, every honorable act I performed, every time I stood tall, every time I cursed a cigarette, and every time I called equality a lie - it meant something. Insecurity has always been my vice, but it's better than unsubstantiated ego worship (it's better earned).

In the end, only instinct matters. Will. If you need to break up with someone, do it. If you know that you're going to be lied to by an employer, trust yourself. If you know your cock size is huge, flaunt it. Journalistic projections is sometimes the only thing you have to send something eternal to be observed, but regardless, individual acts matter within a subjective world.

For too long I've let others say and jump and scream, while I stood back as a gentleman and absorbed. But now it's my turn to speak. This different. This is my LiveJournal.


As for the past,

It didn't signify nothing.