Why are we alive? Why do we toil among the millions around the world, all searching for the same things, all looking for love, beauty and success? Surely it’s not because we have to, we’re all blessed with the ability to die if we ever choose to do so. So perhaps the question isn’t why we live but rather why we don’t die. Why don’t we die when every single day, there are a hundred reasons to do so? Here’s why I think so. Because the human race is one not simply meant for progression and meaningful pursuits, but in converting the meaningless to the most beautiful things in all existence. We have all felt vulnerable and even broken down, and no matter how long the day lasts sometimes all that we truly want is to force the words in our heads through those resisting fingers to the writing that we hope could possibly define us. We are members of the human race, because we feel. Because of passion.
We feel what is to be felt and what isn’t to be felt, we are the humans who live through each day, and when we seem to forget who we are, we live through each night with fervor and a feeling that can only be characterized by constant goosebumps. For we are the ones who commit to the ideals that we have picked up through the course of our lives and no matter where these ideals and dreams may lead us, we choose to follow, to go beyond the obvious and the mundane, to seek the unknown and be broken, till one day the shards that we have collected all our lives can be assimilated to form the being that we will be.
And no matter how far we go away, away from the beaten path that we have learnt to call as our home, we’ll always be taking our hearts with us. For no matter the beating taken, or the doubts, there will always be more to this world that we are unaware of, and as long as that holds true, mystery exists and so does magic.
But don’t let yourself give in to the normal. Don’t let the sands of time usher you into the usual matters of the world, for people who run behind matters of consequence tend to forget the littler things, the things that many times, matter most. What is music to you, and what is poetry? Wake up at 4am sometime, and simply listen. Listen to the roar of the silence, the quiet sounds that almost seem musical by themselves, and let yourself learn the truth of subtlety. For in the quiet, what one sees and feels, is more than almost anything else. And in the words of Helen Keller, what is most beautiful, is that which is felt by the heart.
Just don’t be ordinary…