I often find myself staring up at the sky, or pondering the sight of the moon. It’s vastness consumes my thoughts and twists them into doubtful conclusions. I am simply nothing more than a speck on this chanced up rock. My ability to breath, move and have a presence is all from a coincidence that I must thank something called the Big Bang for. I have no meaning, no purpose, or place. This all drifts through my mind like a complicated honey mixture: thick and slow. Why should I continue on this winding road that will never have a peaceful end, for the beginning was never peaceful. It was just there. If I could just nestle myself in a state of oblivion, then these issues would all be solved. But I can tell, oblivion will never find me, not when I’m still conscious of this world I am a part of. My sole option is to stop staring at the sky, and to stop pondering these hindering thoughts.