Not everyone who kills himself dies.
Not everyone who likes to live lives.
Is it because our mortality is not our choice but a destiny?
Would we give in to the idea that we soon meet our ends because we have lived our purpose, either knowingly or unknowingly? If this is true, may we just then have the pleasure of finding the brink of joy amidst an unexplainable suffering.
I do not know what I am really saying or having the eloquence to communicate it clearly but death and living are fascinating me, especially the part of answering “why”? I am a little obsessed of finding a meaning of everything, especially about my very existence. Or it this the perfect time to let go of matters I couldn’t grasp or persevere until I am satisfied.
Why do I live if I get bored? So I can find another way to express life with simplicity, relaxation, acceptance of what really is, and then enjoy every gift of waking up in the morning.
Why do I live to have opponents? So I can find ways to be sociable and peaceful, to see a different perspective, and possibly help someone go through the suffering of not understanding someone’s pain.
Why do I live just to soon die? So I can deliver my very existence to this complex world and to add to its flavour.
Life will never be measured by time. It is not how long you have lived, but merely have you truly lived? Have you utter gratitude, have you endured pain, have you let yourself laugh or cry, have you connected with someone or anyone, have you shared your fears and triumphs, because it is everything, not just the good but also the bad, and the falling and rising again, until the time comes that another realm of life is about to unfold. Do not aim for perfection, aim for trying again, and for appreciating and being present in every part of the journey.