Why We Live

No one ever does understand the complexities of life. We never know. No matter how much we inquire, no matter how much we seek, it would never be enough. We would still continue to look for something- even if we already do not know what we’re exactly looking for.

Sometimes I think we constantly search for something because that is how we are destined to be. That is how we are created. We continuously bask in the idea that there is something that is waiting for us at the end of the road. Or that there is light at the end of every tunnel. And yes, the fact that it convinces us to pursue is indeed agreeable. Because no matter how it goes, we always, and I tell you ALWAYS, move on.

Sometimes we forget- forget that it’s all about moving on. And it baffles us. Our innards quiver, our minds displaced. So we run around in circles until somebody heaven sent takes us out of the loop- some force graciously does so for us to find another way again. Battered and all, we continue because of the hope that is left in us. Even a little spark. Or just a tiny flicker. We move on- as we are eager for that tiny glint to turn into blazing fire.

Maybe we were created this way. Maybe the gods have favoured our existence to be in this exact form. We use our precious time to look for the things we think that could make us whole. Are we that lonely? Are we really that desperate? People search for everything and I do exactly mean everything everything.

We search for love; we constantly hope that the right person could be the answer to our prayers. Speaking of prayers, we search for an existence that is beyond higher above our being; so that we could believe in something and turn that belief as our sheer foundation. We search for a living; it defines who we are in life. We search for attention; we’re all narcissistic and we just want the others to state it out loud.

I have nothing against how we are created or why we act as such. But at the end of the day, sometimes it makes me think, are we really that useless? That without these things- these so-called life necessities- we are nothing. Originally, we are all inadequate and incompetent that we have to persistently unearth our own beings every now and then. Is that it? Or are we all vulnerable and covetous that we cannot be at peace unless we feel that we have surpassed somebody, even ourselves? Is this the reason for our living?

But then, if we do not put ourselves into a quest, our life would be useless- for we will never know what it is like ahead. We will never know the feeling of triumph, of loss, of damage and of restoration. We will spare ourselves from the amusement of joy and the wails of pain or sorrow. We will never know. We will never have something to share.

Ah. The constant queries. The constant search. Sometimes I think, is life the complex one or are we?