Future
We don’t know the future; even the most correct predictions of current times were hugely mistaken, leaving us with no idea of what will happen, how it will happen, or what is there for us. Yet we think about it all the time—stressing and worrying—and of course, I’m no exception. It’s been happening for a while for me; I don’t know what to do for my future when I’m facing the question of what might be there, or if my work, my writing, and my other passions will be relevant at all. Now, when I start having a passion for something, I think it’s not worth investing my time because it won’t matter in the grand scheme of things; I won't be remembered. To say it shortly, I feel lost.
But I must realize—and I’m trying to do it right now—that whatever I’m doing is not for future relevance; it’s not for someone else to read or to see some part of me. I must do everything I am interested in only for my own sake and for the current moment. This is the moment that matters—the moment I’m writing these characters and nothing else; this is precious. This should be a self-fulfilling activity in itself, without a reader, without expectations, and without thinking of the future.
So, let me tell you about the future—without me thinking about it, really.
…
I can’t, Fuck offf!
