Naught Matters

Amid the storm of UNSW's sudden pull-out, the recall of Beckham to the England squad, pricing, the various strategic models, all but spinning in my head, I put down the ballpoint to blog. I thought: What the heck! I’ve enough. This world floods with sudden exaltations one moment, downfalls another, and vice versa; news can't be more sensationalised, spectacular in that way, in this age. But to me, suddenly, naught matters.

Sometimes, I discern: why do I bother? One can’t be on a high all his life. So why am I so hard on myself, when sustained success takes luck, sacrifices, many more things beyond control, even things unscrupulous? You wonder is it all worth it. And being pessimistic takes away that last opportunity to see light of hope and eventually, enlightenment. Astute lies and half-truths these are, you say? Indeed, there is only one truth: that we all have to die someday, saint or no saint. Well, I’ve enough. Like the saying goes, if you can’t beat them, join them. Naught matters.

I guess, up to this point, I am not in the right frame of mind for blogging, or anything, for that matter. I’ve truly lost my mind. Some fellow bloggers can just let go, close down their blogs, cease to exist, as if their presence means shit, not to themselves, but how about me? What about me? Naught: that I understand. For all being said, humans only care, think about themselves, and are too full of themselves. And my blog epitomises these more than anything. How’s that for self-effacement? Yet, naught matters.