Sense

Maybe it was never supposed to make sense.  Maybe that's the whole idea, that it all goes flying by without so much as a glimmer of change, of significance, of recognition.  In the end, it doesn't even matter.  So it doesn't.  And that's easy.  It's easy because it gets rid of the fear, the uncertainty, the worry associated with the future and particular consequences.

But it's also really hard.  Because that renders everything worthless, useless, insignificant.  Insignificance comes with a fear and uncertainty all its own.  It hurts to not be remembered, to be lost, abandoned, tossed aside without the least demonstrated concern.  That's how the world works though.  In a time of egotism and indifference, people just don't care.  It doesn't matter to them, it doesn't even really affect them.

Making headway through the river of time, no way to really get ahead, no way to truly stay behind.  Every pathway is different.  Every journey passes different points and ends in different places.  And because of this dissimilarity of experiences and life stories, it begins to be clear that none of it matters, nobody can really comprehend in the same way, and everything falls apart after coming together.

It's so temporary and transient and when it comes down to it, none of it matters.  So really, it doesn't make sense.  Caring doesn't make sense in situations where it doesn't make a difference.  Does living make sense when all there is to look forward to is death?