Unknown

Birds, effortlessly flying around the Earth. Water simply flows. My hands, typing, happens as naturally as rain. The whole universe, us being little specks, from such a big perspective, we don't matter. To live is an idea. An idea created when no one knew what life was. But to be living and to be alive. Very different. Being just a speck in the universe, it's not pessimistic of me to say we don't matter on a larger scale. Saying what needs to be said, that's just the truth. The stars in the sky twinkle but no one can see them anymore. The pollution, fills the sky, the sky that I believe would be very beautiful. Us being little specks in the world, Why would it matter what I say? Why would the words I type have an importance? What we do in life is pretty much irrelevant. What are we doing here? And yet, The birds would still fly, the ants would still climb the hills, the strums of my guitar would still stay the same. Just being little specks, the universe doesn't care about us. From a historic point of view, the universe is what wiped out the dinosaurs. The Earth still turned on its axis, Star Wars would still be made millions of years later. And I would still be here, writing about how nothing really matters.