Opened eyes

The march of causality does not care for you. What do I mean by this? You could be born with a terminal illness and only live to be six. But you weren’t. You are you. And we are all at the mercy of causality. If you stand in its path, it will run you over.

And don’t think for a second that luck—a job promotion, a beautiful wife, winning the lottery—is a sign that causality favors you. It isn’t. Don’t be deceived, because when the illusion shatters, it will take you by surprise. This machine does not concern itself with your well-being. And that is a terrifying thought, especially if you imagine causality as an entity of its own. It helps me visualize. It helps me see. But it also makes it difficult to ever enjoy anything.

And that’s just causality. That’s not time. Then there’s entropy. The longer you live, the higher the chance that damage will accumulate. It’s not a matter of if but when. The accumulation of damage is inevitable, because the universe is profoundly hostile to life. It ages you. It wears you down. It erodes your immune system.

So if you have that gnawing feeling that something is terribly wrong, it’s because you’re right. Things are terribly wrong. Things are.