We Are Nothing And Everything.

I was 16 years old when I painted this. At the time, I was obsessed with Padmavat, and I was reading any and all sources mentioning Allauddin Khilji and marvelling at what once used to be. Today, I'm 23 years old. I'm currently obsessed with Interstellar, and I've been reading any and all sources that help understand spacetime, marvelling at how small and insignificant I am in this cosmos.

There's 2 things I realise, at least about myself. One is, as alluded to previously, I am nothing. There's so much going on parallel to my existence that's bigger than life, and to just be around and exist within the whole phenomenon is a pleasure in itself that I don't often appreciate. My problems mean nothing and my life is fleeting and amidst the myriad things I don't comprehend about this universe, I'm just here to have a good time and pass away - a tiny, tiny spec of dust in the absolute vastness of I don't know what.

Second is, in a circumstance like this, I am everything. And I don't mean it in the I'm-the-center-of-the-universe kind of way, but in the it's-in-what-you-see kind of way. I would never have wondered about malik kafur's loyalty or the straightest geodesic following the universal law of laziness if not for how deeply I felt about something: here, art. While I should credit art for how it makes me feel, it also comes down to me to find and give in to art and experience life with a frenzy to learn and know and feel and wonder. In that sense, it comes down to what I expose myself to, what I make myself feel, how I reflect that on the people around me, and finally how I leave things better than I find them.

It doesn't matter what job I'm working or what city I'm living in or how much I earn or who my friends are. Nothing is significant - in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't even matter if I lived a happy or sad life. But if nothing mattered anyway, what a waste of chance it would be if I didn't marvel, love, and give before any trace of me ceased to exist.