I was thinking. Life is only experience, it has a beginning and an end and each day as we live toward death, we decide whether to expand or contract our experience. There is no overcoming it, we die, we all die; no matter how undeserving we imagine a person to be, no matter how undeserving we imagine ourselves to be; we all end up dead. The fact that we, you and I, exist is a mathematical impossibility; 750,000,000 years ago, an amoeba fucked an amoeba to propagate our genes for another generation and so on through the millennia. If they hadn’t fucked, you and I wouldn’t be. You and I will never happen again. We only exist because of luck, blind, stupid, arbitrary luck, luck we had nothing to do with. Three, ten, twenty, ninety years of consciousness is all we get; one day, we will all die tomorrow. And to spend this existential moment, this spark of existence on a time scale that measures our human years with dozens of zeros, pursuing material and social appurtenance beyond well-being is so shallow, so daft, so beneath our intelligence, so unworthy of the random good fortune we all bear and that will soon be over to never occur again, regardless the zeros. Experience your life.