Have you ever wondered how your life turn out to be this way? Was it the steps that you had taken or was it a total coincidence. For something must have happened for you to be right here. Was it fate or was it the direction you were heading.
They say that you will find your way in life. You will find your purpose for your continued existence. But is there a point in this? Just living, day-to-day, not knowing.
Which made me wonder the meaning of life. Are we supposed to leave a mark in this world? So that other could remember us when we are gone. Or perhaps for the continuity of our kind.
Living each day to the fullest, For you will never know when is your last. Or waste it if you might, For who am I to judge.
For I am here still figuring things out. What is the purpose that God granted me this life?
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?
A sentimental longing or wistful affection for a period in the past.
Exaggerated and self-indulgent tenderness, sadness or nostalgia.
The two strong feelings that desired of the past. The past that needs to be move on from.
The past that needs to be forgotten.
The past that is a nice place to visit but certainly not a good place to stay.
The past where it was filled with struggles.
The past where it was filled with unbearable sorrows.
The past where it was unrecognisable.
The past when demons come out and play at night.
The past when doubts and pain were a familiarity.
The past when letting go was the easiest thing to do.
Why am I still thinking about the past?
Because he is near and he is here.
And I am finally letting go for once.