Living

When I say I hate living, it’s only because I know it ends. I only hate living because it kind of makes no sense. We are born, then we learn about existing and what that entails. Something they don’t report to you, is its all for no real affair. We try to learn all we can starting from a bean. We develop great talents and gifts, all of which the universe can instantly wipe clean. We encounter many relations, some so superb. We often think how can I ever live without him/her. While the idea of living sometimes is a blur. Vitality is what I don’t understand. It’s derived from the Latin word “life” to live, grow, and develop. Now, that can’t be right. I have only grown enough to discover to live, you have to fight, and to grow, you have to make all wrongs right. We put all this work into developing a sense of being, as if to live wasn’t a reminder enough that life has no significant meaning. We break our backs to make ends meet and put food on a table whose legs are weak. Pray to a man who is there but unseen, knowing all these things how can anyone think life is worth living. Though all these trials may ring true, there is one thing I neglected to tell you. On this journey, this voyage of life, what we do, and what we say, we create ripples that change the trajectory of time. So living may not make sense, but what we learn while here is patience, love, and endurance. There is no real Riddle to it. Just put one foot in front of the other and let the universe get to it.