/lit/ - Literature

Every time I am allowed to be alone for extended periods of time, for multiple days, I begin to realize that everything is an absurd joke. even mathematics is based on unexplainable mental phenomena. nothing can be proven. all is folly. the universe shouldn't exist. in fact, it's not that the universe shouldn't exist, but that everything should exist and yet it doesn't or seems not to. My running hypothesis is that the whole of existence is completely random and I happened to be born into the one part of the universe that by the law of truly large numbers randomly chanced to appear non random for all eternity. And yet I also don't believe in existence. The concept of "existence" makes no sense and cannot be explained. I have finally noticed just how much thinking I do without language. No language means no concept of existence or things being, and no language is the natural state. The term "existence" is meaningless. I believe that nothing exists more than non existence. Eventually it all becomes hilarious and my eyes involuntary go wide for hours on a time like I am on fucking drugs and everything is absurd because every single fucking thing is ridiculous and completely non sensical and absurd so all I can do is laugh even at the fact that I am laughing. One day I will break down in public and die of laughter like Chrysippus