Feed Me, Universe

At the time that I am writing this, I am twenty-seven years old. I always feel like whatever my current age is, anytime before then I was a complete idiot, and now I am a mature, enlightened person. I feel like twenty-seven is a perfectly viable age for any person to know the truths of the universe. When I am twenty-eight, however, I am sure to say “You fool! You knew nothing of the universe then, yet now, surely, you couldn’t be more informed and absolutely correct about it all!” Until I am twenty-nine, that is. And so it continues.

My point is, I know nothing, forever.

I like that notion. That there is always more to learn, feel, and experience. No matter how long I live, how much I try, there will always be an infinitely larger amount left untouched out there.

And it’s not only me. It’s you too. Your neighbors, your ancestors, everyone they have ever met, or seen. All of the combined knowledge of Humankind, is nothing in comparison to the amount of knowledge out there, waiting to be learned.

They say ignorance is bliss. I think that originally that was meant to say that children are so happy because they don’t understand adult problems (something that may be true, even to this day), but to me, it means something entirely different. I am blissful in the idea that no matter how much I find, I can always find more. I am insatiable in that sense. I am at the very first pot of food in an endless buffet with an astronomically large appetite.

Feed me, Universe. I am hungry.