THINK AbourriT

Yesternight, I dreamt I was getting stoned, and I woke up high as a kite. What are the odds of that happening? I swear to God it's like a wet dream or something. Anyway, I have a string of papers to sit for this whole week, and my pressure levels zimekuwa zikichezea huko juu kama bei ya unga(cliché, Ik,Ik). So, my mind inadvertently decided to give itself a break and go on a random wild thoughts rampage for the better part of Sunday. It got me thinking, is there such a thing as absolute happiness or gratification? Is there any one thing any of us can do and be like, "Damn! I'm freakishly happy and content and think I have done everything there is to do to make me happy!" I opine not. Humans are just working up an endless maze with regards to that. We wake up each morning to do something that we think is a means to a desirable end in your own merit. That end, once attained, becomes yet another means to yet another possibly insurmountable end, and that sick cycle of never-ending-ness goes on and on and on till you're six feet under. What then is the purpose of life? What is the purpose of doing whatever you're doing? Why I'm I working my ass off to study for exams? Yes, to be an engineer, but to what end? I sure as Elon Musk never being funny know that I don't give a rat's ass about the engineering thing, and even if I did, so what? Is it for the money? Ik that is an infinite race, so no, or maybe yes😂😂.  Legacy? Maybe, but I dont think I care too much about what people will think of me when I'm no longer in the picture. I mean, their loss, right? What good would it do you to hold opinions of people long gone? 

Speaking of not being in the picture, I also strayed a bit to think about it. What will the world look like without you? Will public opinion on anything change because of your absence? Why should it matter so much that it does/ doesn't anyway? I don't know, its just wildy weird. Just a few days ago, someone asked me what it means to die. What could it possibly feel like? You'd be walking to school all jolly jolly like Kibe loves to say, then out of the blues, a speeding driver knocks and runs you over. You'd maybe feel a sharp shriek of pain run through the thousands or millions of nerves in your body all at once. You'd definitely want to scream and call for help, but there wouldn't be enough strength in you in that split second, so you just lay there and try to steal quick, fazing glances at the world you are not quite ready to let go. You didn't think your last day would be like that. You envisoned an old age death with your kids and grandkids at your bedside as you frail-ly impart unto them the wisdom which you won't then need. But hell, there you are, sprawled in the middle of the highway, all you can faintly hear at that point is the masses scampering and wailing maybe, trying to call for help on your behalf. You want to pity them because they think you can be saved, when, in fact, you know you cant. The curtains are draping over you. You don't get to say goodbye, but do many people really? As you struggle with fate, it finally catches up. Your eyelids drape over your pupils and then, darkness-in its vastness. Your life chapter closes. 

In that very moment, everything ceases to have meaning. It stops mattering that you lined up a string of As in your school portal. It stops to matter that you were the best or worst in whatever. It all loses relevance, to you at least. To the rest of us though, it doesnt. Some like me will yap around and others will talk in hushed tones. We'll wonder how inconsiderate fate could be. We'll praise your industry in whichever field you excelled. We'll also look for something bad you did and say karma did its part in your death. We'll say and intimate all sorts of things about you, but does it really matter? So why do we really do anything we do? Do we do it for the innate gratification it provides? Or we do it so that people get something to say about us when we suddenly cant breathe so that our eulogies don't just say we were born, fed and died. Either way, it's all abstract. All we can really hope for, as Kenny Rodgers said, is to die in our sleep. 

Ps: One thing about a stoner's mind, there is rarely a coherence of thoughts. I really hope I didn't make sense up there😊😂. See y'all later when I'm fucked (by the exams of course).🫡