The Tip of the Iceburg

I hate existential thoughts.
I'm tired of wondering why,
How much longer,
Where to after this.
Nothing is promised in life, and certainly no one ever promised that life would be easy. Death seems like the only thing we can count on, but who's to say death isn't just an awakening from this bad dream we know as living?
"They" say everything happens for a reason, and it's easy to see that in retrospect - sometimes. So does that mean our fate is written in the stars?
Better yet, what the fuck does it, or anything, really matter...