Several things in life are bothering me at the moment. I don’t know if I should tell the story, but the pre-existing problem is: I don’t know how to put it into words.
What I am feeling is a jumble of human emotions – pieces of agitation, fear, melancholy, passion, all scrambled together like the ingredients of an omelette.
Throughout this month, I have done things I regret. I have hurt some who are close to me, I have allowed my heart to wander where it should not, I have given in to selfishness and vanity. Yet, I have also performed deeds I am proud of.
All that rambling goes back to my root question: what is the purpose of living? We breathe, we sleep, we eat, we do human things. We make mistakes, we apologize, and then we compensate; we are sinned against, we accept apologies, and then we forgive; ultimately, the cycle repeats itself. Isn’t it all just a waste of time? Even the good things in life: being compassionate, having loyal friends, making breakthroughs… all seem to be so impermanent and mortal. They will be gone once we die. So what exactly is the point of striving so hard to achieve something in a life that is not eternal? What is the meaning of falling in love when nothing truly lasts? What is the rationale behind hoping for a better future when the future will become the past perpetually?