Life

What is life, birds soaring through the sky, deer prancing through the feilds, the morning dew? Is it rain on the roof, the savory aroma of dinner wafting towards you, that one flower that perserveres, Is life everything or nothing?

I'm told to be thankful I'm alive, thank my lucky stars for waking up another day. I don't understand this

Whoever or whatever made me must've made a mistake. I've been in and out of recovery, unaware of what my "purpose" is, do I even have one?

I feel like I'm made to do something, like there's some destiny for me but I don't know where to search. There are times where I feel hopeless like my life has no meaning and others where I don't care. Is this life?

I've disappointed, disappeared, and divulged. I've laughed, cried, been hurt. You end up disappointing someone with everything you do. Is that living?

As humans were are inherity programed for a reason: To make more, but that just doesn't work out for me, I feel like I'm meant for more than just multiplying. We're also creatures of selfishness, doing things for our own gain, we may have selfless moments but eventually we'll get something out of it. Is that what life was intended for?

It's like there's a ghost of what I'm supposed to be inside but I don't know how to find it. I'm slowly tearing myself apart trying to live up. Losing my sense of identity; after all, people I've never talked to already know me.

I'm stereotyped and clichéd everyday, everyone is, some fight it but I've given up my identity, why try convincing people I'm more that what they think, First impressions are important but you don't have to be present to make an impression.

We're faced not only with these challenges, some as trivial as writing the email, or more difficult ones like putting down the bottle. Notice the use of "trivial" and "difficult" both provocative words describing tasks, both are also invalid. That email could be hard for someone but easy for the next, we are unique in our own ways.

These problems sometimes can't be handled so other ways are found. Some cut, burn, or even end their lives. It's never done for the same reason, but there's always a reason. Is life just there to end?

So what is life?