Lately I find myself reflecting on my past. Things I've done, things that have happened. Does it matter? I mean really, we just end up dying someday. What's our purpose here? Do something that leaves behind a good name? Do we want to be remembered? What's the point? We lived here. We wasted time, money, space. And for what? To show we'd been here? To make our mark? What is our mark, the mark of humans? Intelligence? I think not. Humans are the only species that wars. We fight for jealously, spite, anger, pointless emotions. Why do we do these things? To be remembered? We aren't remembered. It's the idea of us that gets passed down from one story to the next. The idea of us printed in textbooks. The idea of us printed in our words. We are never truly remembered. Not even the idea of us continues forever. So, again, what's the point? To do the best we can? Why? Who remembers?
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