I grew up watching stand-up comedy. Stephen Colbert, Ronny Chieng, Fluffy, Eliza Shlesinger.

You know what I've realized? It's all just professional complaining.

And I don't mean to demean it in anyway because it's an art form that shaped my personality so much. I can make anything funny!

So a sense of witty cynicism underscores my personality.

It crept into my perception of the world. "Hah, isn't this normalized thing actually super absurd?"

And slowly, I saw life as just that. This huge absurdity!

Televisions? Madness! We used to go outside!

Friendships? How are you putting your stock in these people?! You don't know what they do when you're not there...

And don't get me started on world politics.

I think absurdism was easy for me to believe because my life was filled with genuinely strange happenings in the first place. I won't list them here, because I'm sure some member of my family has found this blog by now, but my life is a sitcom with really unrealistic writing.

So that was the conclusion: existence is random and life is as arbitrary as you want it to be.

It was a little Lord Henry of me, to be honest. Add a dash of stoicism to deal with the more negative chaos.

It was also hard to remember a time where I was that one selfless, wholesome character in the friend group.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still very responsible, and I love people, and I would largely restrain myself from raining on someone's parade.

Except I could still rain on my own.

If I had to pick a point where this whole thing came apart,

it would be my brother.

Big eyes on a tiny face. Came into my life long after I ever thought I could possibly be a sister.

And he was born with the BEST sense of humor.

This literal toddler came up with better comedic timing than I ever have.

And he asked the best questions. Why's there grass? Why can't we see the sun at night? Why are you so short (hello?!).

So I think I realized... I can't be showing my brother that life is absurd.

Because it wasn't. Not with him in it. Or any of the other people I loved.

I can't look at him and say, "Most things you see are actually pointless and many people you meet are not worth your time." It's not true and it's a horrible thing to be instilling in someone who looks up to you.

And deep down... I wasn't sure if I had ever truly believed it.

I think I was just taking the easy way out and declaring that nothing mattered so I wouldn't have to change myself.

He'd ask me why the sky was blue and I'd find myself looking - no, REALLY looking - at the clouds, wondering inside how I'd ignored them my whole life.

He'd learn about the planets and I'd be forced to rethink my view of them. He figured out animals and colors and the five senses.

One by one, he took me through every fundamental aspect of being human, because he was figuring them out for the first time.

And seeing that curiosity,

that zest for the world,

the continued questioning even after he got sick,

I wanted out of my stand-up practicality.

Being absurdist isn't morally bad.

It can be very good for some people to let go of some grand meaning for life.

But for me, there has to be a greater meaning here.

That meaning brought my brother to me.

It made me look at sunsets and sunrises again.

It made me look at these things I'd once found absurdity in, and instead backtrace to figure out why they were there.

Buildings. Systems. People. Everything.

And then I'd see myself in a window reflection on the streets of New York.

What was I?

Never reflecting on yourself is comfortable but that comfort is a trap.

You don't grow. You don't unlock potential. You don't fully analyze the extent of your worth.

I found that reexamining my motivations every day kept me making active choices.

And it made me realize how much of my life came out of convenience or, "this works on paper, so I'll do it."

Even when I started this blog thinking I'd had the epiphany and that I was set for life now,

I think there's so much more I want to write about.

So many more unusual ideas I want to try. I don't care if they're impractical anymore.

I want to explore metaphysical existence.

On that note, I realized I really liked quantum physics.

You could be a human or a chunk of plastic and you'll still be, on a fundamental level, determined by the orbital orientations that make up your matter.

Seriously, anything.

My brother would ask, why are trees there?

And I'd say something like, to make oxygen and help the environment and look pretty.

But inside I'd go...

Tree --> plant --> algae --> photosynthesis --> sun --> elements --> atoms --> orbitals --> the OG barrier between physical existence and an abstract unknown.

And that's exciting, isn't it?

If you told me two years ago that a college instructor would look at me and say I should really go down the physics route, I'd look at my normal force diagram and call you a liar. I hated physics in high school.

But then again, I hadn't find my joyous whimsy, my love for existence yet.

Maybe I won't be a physicist, but it's cool to think about.

And "metaphysics" is a cool word. Metaphysics metaphysics metaphysics. Haha.

And if you had told younger me I'd Pinkie-Pied my way into loving life (not really... I think she might be absurdist too, in a strange way), I'd go, ???

Life is funny.

But not because it's laughable.

It's because we don't really understand it.

And in this chaotic mystery we still hold onto each other and love each other.

And find ways to serve each other and dedicate ourselves to good. At least we try to.

I'd like to think I've always been kind. Hopefully. I can't be the judge. I'm just 18!

But whatever the case, my brand of kindness has changed.

Because I don't find you or our world absurd anymore.

I think you're a brilliant result of trillions of cosmic calculations that went right.

I think that's a miracle.

I want to laugh with you.

Not at you.

Gosh, I love life.

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