Life Is Just Noise: Keeping Busy So the Abyss Doesn’t Answer Back

I wake up.

I piss.

I pour coffee like it’s holy water meant to ward off the demons.

I scroll. I eat. I go. I come back. I drink. I sleep.

Repeat.

And the only thing that keeps me from screaming into the void like a lunatic with a god complex and no audience—is staying just busy enough.

That’s the trick, ain’t it?

Keep your hands moving, keep your mind running, or else it catches up. It.

That fat, empty thing in the room. The question that doesn’t have an answer. The why.

Life doesn’t need a reason. It doesn’t care. It just is.
So we invent distractions. Hobbies. Lovers. TikTok. Enlightenment. Gym memberships. Philosophy.

Call it what you want. It’s all just glorified noise.

And I should know—I’ve been playing this game for a while.

1. Meaning Is a Currency We Print Ourselves

Let’s get this straight. I’m not talking about your cat’s birthday or how much you love making banana bread.

I’m talking objective meaning. Cosmic meaning. The kind of meaning that makes people start movements or burn them down.

We make up meaning like desperate gamblers bluffing a hand we know we can’t win.

The universe didn’t promise us purpose—it gave us atoms and said “figure it out, loser.”

2. The Universe Doesn’t Give a Damn—and That’s Beautiful

Let’s entertain this little romantic nightmare: we’re just entropy experiments. Evolution’s pets. Temporary nodes in a long line of cosmic trial-and-error.

And damn it, I get it.

The universe is looking for complexity and stability. It tries everything. Black holes, frogs, TikTok influencers, stars, you and me. Most of it breaks. The rest mutates and tries not to die.

Death, by the way, is just cosmic housekeeping.

3. Biology: The Universe’s Weird Phase

You ever think biology was just the universe going through a phase? Like it tried physics, got bored, then decided to mess around with DNA and consciousness like a teenager trying abstract art.

“Let’s see what happens if I give this meat sack anxiety and the ability to ask why am I here?… oops.”

4. Consciousness: The Glitch That Questions the Code

We are cursed. Not because life is hard—but because we know it.

A worm doesn’t cry at 3AM because it doesn’t know it’s gonna die.

But I do.

And that’s the magic trick. That’s the glitch. Consciousness is just enough awareness to see the train coming, but not enough power to stop it.

5. The Ego Gets in the Way of Acceptance

My ego doesn’t want to be a science project. It wants to be a protagonist. But the plot sucks. No big finale. Just bills and a backache and maybe a few sunsets if you’re lucky.

I want to matter. I want the universe to notice. But it doesn’t. It won’t. And that hurts like hell because I’m wired to want more.

6. Busyness Is the Best Medicine for Existential Disease

So I keep busy. I write, I drink, I try to fall in love again even though I already know how the movie ends. I distract myself with big thoughts and little pleasures.

Because if you stop—if you let it in—the weight of it will crush you.
The meaningless. The silence. The not knowing.

So we dance. We paint. We build things and tear them down.
We become gods of our tiny schedules, hoping structure holds the void at bay.

7. Maybe Experience Is All We Ever Had

Maybe we’re not here to understand anything.

Maybe we’re just here to feel it all.

The heartbreaks, the orgasms, the hangovers, the belly laughs, the panic attacks in grocery store aisles.

Maybe consciousness isn’t a glitch. Maybe it’s the point.
Not to make sense of the universe—but to witness it.

Summary Table: Life Is Just a Glorified Coping Mechanism

Point	Description
1. Meaning Is a Currency	We make it up to avoid screaming
2. Universe’s Apathy	It’s not hostile, it’s indifferent
3. Biology’s Just a Phase	Life is entropy’s weird experiment
4. Consciousness = Glitch	Too smart to be happy, too dumb to escape
5. Ego Hurts	We want purpose, universe shrugs
6. Keep Busy	The mind’s treadmill keeps the abyss at bay
7. Experience Over Answers	Maybe it’s about feeling, not knowing

Conclusion

So where does that leave me? Bukowski once said, “We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”

But I think Death doesn’t tremble. Death doesn’t care.
And maybe that’s okay.

Because I still get up. I still try. I still spill thoughts like cheap wine and kiss people like they matter. I still stare at the stars and wish I had time to understand it all.

The universe doesn’t owe me a plot twist.

But hell—
maybe I am the plot twist.

Maybe you are too.