The Littlest Nihilist

The thing is, see, I dont believe in anything. Now, there's a showstopper right there, huh. "He doesnt believe in anything; guess it's time to move on to the next blog." "Sounds good to me, Fred." But it's true. I dont. If I did, I wouldnt be sitting here in this chair (which doesnt really exist, by the way) telling you I dont. Heck, for all I know, *you* dont exist. I could be talking to no one -- and I probably am, right?

Why am I expecting you to answer if you dont really exist? Well, see, I'm not. Really. You could be saying something right now, but it doesnt really mean anything because no matter what it is, it doesnt exist. Because you dont. And because you dont, I'm basically talking to myself, which means I probably dont either. Tree falls in the forest, y'know?

Like my t-shirt? It doesnt exist either. Honest. In this case, of course, it doesnt. Really. Not at all. So if you were to say, "Hey, dude, cool t-shirt!", you'd be talking about nothing at all. I mean, man, is that existential or what?

I am *so* having a Camus moment right now.

Oh sure, like most, once upon a time, I believed in lots of things. God. My career. My boyfriend's undying love. Then I smartened up. Supreme being? Get real. Career? As if. Love? Sex with bigger credit card bills. So I just... *stopped*. I swear, wisest thing I ever did, y'know? Because now, accepting that my life has no purpose has *given* it purpose. Knowing that nothing makes sense *makes* perfect sense. By not believing in anything, now I can believe in *everything*, as long as it involves nothing.

And, y'know, that's really something.