Well, at least that's how the saying goes.
From ancient Greece to the present, Chaos has played a key role in both mythology and the applied practice of everyday life.
Mine is no exception.
There is always a counterpoint, that some who find it pertinent enjoy adding, "There is order to Chaos;" but this, too, is irrelevantly unpredictable.
I have recently concluded that the only thing I can completely, comfortably, and undoubtedly rely on is the knowledge that I am often wrong, and don't have all the answers. Though I like to be, though I prey upon my own will to be omniscient, though I love the tingly bliss of the illusion of power out of knowledge... I know I am but a grain of sand with none of it.
Still, accepting this brings little peace. As deus ex machina, the internet plays little role in entertaining me furthermore. It's difficult to find joy in that which I normaly find fantastic, and the only thoughts that keep me going are self-preservation. To be quite frank, it's fucking sad.
If I could spare even a modicum of sanity before the week is out, I'd like to remind myself that I'm not alone and don't have to fight this uphill battle single-handedly. There are those who are willing to help, even if unable to.
Only time will tell how long I can outlive myself.