The irrelevance of being relevant amazes me more every day. I have never understood the fight that seems to consume people, and it has been there for as long as I can remember.
What surprises me is that this human quest still amazes me. What worries me is that it still gets under my skin. It shouldn’t. It doesn’t even involve me. Yet it surrounds me like a desperate person looking for hope in the act of mattering.
I don’t think it will ever end. It’s a need that passed me by, which in a funny way makes me entirely irrelevant. There is a freedom in that space, one that stays unknown to everyone busy trying to fit in, to be relevant, to be more than they need to be.
Being alone, a loner with no real need to belong, has been a lifelong study. I never set out to make it my path. It grew naturally as I questioned everything I came across, everything I was told. And the truth is, I love this path.
Not knowing is a wonderful way to exist. It keeps me curious and searching. It lets me expand without ever having to prove I’ve grown. It also leaves me lonely, the other face of peace. Another contrast, another question without an answer.
I know I’ll stay irrelevant for the rest of the day. It’s the path I walk, the path of my truth, a truth that never needs to be shared to feel relevant.
A rich existence is there for the taking. The supposed cost is a life lived inside your own company. I don’t count that as a cost. I count it as a privilege that keeps on giving.