Existential

Everything we do, we do awaiting death.

It is all just one huge countdown until the inevitable.

Even the stars, beautiful as they are, are cursed with years and years and years of watching our deathly visages -- our sad visages, our changing visages, our wrinkled countenances -- until even our faces are lost amongst their memories. Because we are inevitable nothings -- recycled beings; atoms, stardust. Life is lost upon us when given the promise of eternity. We don't remember that we are slowly vanishing. Society won't want us anymore when we're old; there won't be much left for us to do. The new generation has been born, technology is advancing. In the many years after we're dead, they'll be places we could only ever dream of. But that will all vanish when the world comes to an end. What was it all for? What was this mess of destruction, advancement, love, hate, war... for?