What's the point?
What is it?
What's the idea of going through with this pointless story?
What's the reason of putting down another finger and another key?
What's the meaning of this pointless life?
If life is pointless, there is no reason. No meaning. No point. No hope.
And therefore, no sense to continue? If what we are doing is so great, why aren't we seeing the benefit? But no, instead, our efforts drift like ash in the wind. No point. No meaning. No hope. No reason.
If we write just to finish the story - the story of our life - why do we do it?
Is it just for our amusement? Because if it is, everything we fought for, the hours we bled for, it's all just going to drift away. Down the currents of life. No hope. No reason. No point. No meaning.
Why do we continue on going with this despair?
If we just ignore reality, our life - what does it mean? Nothing. Something tells us to write.
But what is it? Just a fantastical hope of the passing wind?
If we don't know why we're going through with this dream - or should I say nightmare? - no one else will care.
No point. No meaning. No reason. No hope.
Why do we even care?
Care about anything? Anything at all? . . .
It's because at least we can hope that we're doing something good midst the turmoil and nightmares around us.
Our lives are meaningless unless someone else believes it was worth something too.