“Do you ever wonder what the point of all this is? "We are all just a side effect of an endless evolution that cares little for individual life".

He looks at me quizzically…and I try to articulate what my burnt out mind is conjuring up.

“It’s just that, everything is just so random. I’m this random person, born in this random corner of the world. I never chose to be born as me, and there’s probably someone else in some other corner of the world going through the exact same thing. I’m, in all ways, inconsequential. And everything that I experience, is also inconsequential. I know that. Its random by design. But it affects me, it makes me so disproportionately sad, or attached. And then each time, there’s a fuck up, there’s one less thing to care about. I can’t care about career, definitely not on people…then what’s the point of all of this, if in the end, its just going to crash and burn, because this system is rigged that way?”

He knows I’m not coming from a place of philosophical curiosity, but he humours me anyway. “I mean… I don’t think it’s about it lasting. It’s just… the experience matters, right? You get something out of it.”

Bullshit - is what I thought then. I didn’t want life to be one experience after another. I wanted things to stay, to matter. I thought, if you couldn’t trust good things to stay, then you couldn’t attach meaning to anything. And that would a sad way to exist.

The same person would later make me realise, you never really lose what you once had. Their presence, lingers all over - my writing, my thoughts, the way I love, the way I express. I curse the way I do because some motherfucker desensitised me to it. Every time I drink and get this insane burst of affection, my mind locks in on the one term that wouldn't mean anything to anyone else - 'kawaii hugs' . Everything that makes me so uniquely me, became mine because someone left a bit of themselves behind for me.