A Peculiar Predicament

[content warning: this flash fiction depicts a character questioning their existence. Reader discretion advised]

How many years do I have to spend alive before I figure out the reason for my being? To be honest, I didn’t even consider making it this far. Right now, I’m just winging it. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? I always think how, if this was a couple thousand years years BCE, I’d be in my twilight years. Make me wonder… were humans even meant to live this long? Was I?

I could dedicate my life to something. That might make things easier. I’d just have to find a way to suffer the lie. Too tired of life, but too afraid to die. I’m lost. Birds swim in the clouds while fires rage and we create music in the form of our children. I’ve been trying so hard to find a meaning in it.

I’ll look at all the work I’ve done akokos later and wonder why. I’ve done all of this. For what? Why does anybody do anything? I’ve enjoyed some of it, I think others have too. But no fire. No force. No reward. It’s a peculiar predicament indeed. I’ve been trying so hard. Maybe I should stop.