am i cynical?? hehe

sometimes, i think about it. life. us. being. we.
i think about it and i think about the point of it. why should we live? why should we spend our time on earth, in this life, only to later die and become nothing. what is the point of being something so complete if it is only to end in nothing. how can life, which seems so significant when living it, mean so little. because it does. if we were to look back how many days can we remember? maybe the odd one when something bad happened, or the time that was just so funny. but how many days can we truly, wholly remember?
do we remember the way that the sky shines during the middle of the day, the way that sweat gleams off of hot foreheads and muscles ripple underneath shirts do we remember how the baby looks when he first speaks, the mouth opening, showing gummy teeth, trying trying trying always trying but never really getting there
do we remember the little things like the way her face creases as she beams and beams and grins on her first day of school do we remember?
could we say exactly what it looks like to watch someone reading a book, a truly marvelous book, where they find that the way words flow over each other matches them makes them feel so real could we close our eyes and see perfectly the den of fox cubs behind the garden fence with their little tails and their orange fluff which seems to pick up just the tiniest bit of dirt, their eyes glistening saying look at us, look what we can do look look look. and i don't see the point in it all, because if nothing is remembered than how can it be, if nothing is remembered than how can we know of it, how can it have any importance?
i said once how spectacular space was, how spectacular the idea that there could be someone out there, somewhere out there, who is exactly like us, and he said that they aren't important, nothing is important other than what is relative to us. but what is relative to us?
because when we are decomposing, taking in nothing, feeling nothing, knowing nothing, doing nothing, remembering nothing, what is the point what is the point what is the point of everything that was?