I watch people. They just seem to endure such hollow, purposeless existances. We race around like our lives have significance, but we're not really doing anything. We try to survive every single day, only to die in the end.....I can't help but question.....Is anything real? Is it all imaginary? Is everyone make believe? Has my whole life been one long dream? Why did I happen to be born as me and not someone else? When someone tells me I'm wasting my life, I want to know what exactly it is they want me to do with it so that it won't be considered a waste. I can't figure out whether or not it's healthy to let yourself get too close to another person, when they can so easily be taken away, by either life or death. Why is it that you can enjoy something so much for a time, and then suddenly one day, you can't stand it anymore when it hadn't even changed. Why does repetition make us feel safe? Why is it that sometimes we hate that which we don't understand and other times we are inexplicably attracted to the mystery? I have too many questions and not enough answers.
I'm determined to figure this life out.
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