The Universe Doesn't Give a Flying Fuck About You

by Johnny B. Truant

What the fuck is wrong with you? The universe doesn't give a flying fuck about you. It can't. It's too big, with too much going on.

This, like the universe's apathy, is neither good nor bad. It is simply a fact.

But this fact — the immutable, inevitable, impossibly obvious fact we will die as surely as we were born — is something we all deny for most of our lives. You'd think we're never going to die, the way we cower and second-guess and fret over each little action.

What are you so fucking worried about?

You are here now. Eventually, you will be gone. You have but a nanosecond on the universal clock to do whatever it is you're going to do. When that time is gone, it's gone. Forever.

In fact, it should matter to you more than it currently does. If you knew how small you are and how short a time you have to do what you can, you wouldn't waste time watching five fucking hours of TV a day. You wouldn't waste time doing a job you hate. You wouldn't waste the little time you have dealing with assholes, feeling sorry for yourself, or being timid about the things you'd really like to do.

You can't be a bad person who does good things. If you do good things, you're not bad; you're good. There is simply no way to manifest badness other than by being bad. Anyone who'd argue that you can be bad while ultimately doing good things is just a douchebag philosophy major looking to get his ass kicked.

Why... it means everything. It means that in the small amount of time you have to live, you can be whatever you want. It means that even though the universe doesn't care enough to give you what you want, it doesn't care enough to stop you from having it, either. So embrace that anarchy, and take those things for yourself. If you want to be awesome in this life,

do awesome things.

But then I realized something really obvious. To be epic, all I need is to do epic shit.

If you want that next level, take it. Take it for yourself.

Grab it. Become it. Claim it.

You might write something and nobody might read it.

The universe doesn't hate you, but it doesn't love you, either. You're just an atom in its infinite workings. The universe doesn't care if you live, die, suffer, or thrive.

Only you care. If your life is to mean something, it's up to you.

All you can do is to make this moment — your moment — better. You can affect the lives of others around you, and you can affect your own life.

You don't matter to the planets and the sun and the stars, but you matter to you. You matter to those around you. You matter to those you can reach, and touch, and who you live and die with.