That’s the question that is on my mind.
There is a book published in 1944 which based on living organisms and how it managed to take place in this time and space. Meanwhile, there is another one about the definitions of life instead. But, it is not the answers I am looking.
Life is beautiful and tragic at the same time. While you are feeling alive, others are beaten down.
Some take one day at a time.
Living each moment, cherishing their presence.
Others plan the time they had.
The little things that seemed insignificant when life unexpectedly ends.
So tell me, what is the purpose of this?
Living each day while waiting for my existential ceased to exist. For I do not see the point in this. Leaving an impact, making a mark. All while waiting for death to arrive.
I wish I could say that I know my place. Perhaps God could tell his intent for me. For I long to know the answer to my question.
What is the point of living in this God-damn world?