Diary entry of a thought

Dear diary,

Do you ever wonder where I came from? Why am I even here? What does my existence mean?

What if I smash my head into the desk while I’m doing these Heather Robertson frog jumps?

I mean, what is that? Who is the I that I’m talking about? Certainly not the I as in me, this thought. It’s the I of whoever is receiving me. Is the thing that I am even likely to happen? What happens when I die and no one remembers me anymore? Will I have ever mattered? Will my existence have meant anything?

What are frog jumps anyway?

Love, A thought