Why do human beings exist? All we do is destroy. We raise our hands against our brothers and sisters in cold blood. Our malice knows no bounds. We are dispicable creatures, killing any and all who stand in our path. We humans are monsters. We are stuck in our ways, unable to change from diabolical to angelic. There are no saints. There is no Hell. Hell is on Earth, and we are the demons. Encompased in our own personal world, we feel obligated to destroy one another in an attempt at finding ourselves.
But. Maybe, just maybe, because we can hate with such fiery passion, maybe we can love on the same level. How far will we go for the person we love? How many lives would we sacrifice just for one? We are selfish beings, but our intents are pure to us. We believe truly that what we do is right. We feel self righteous, our minds telling us whatever we do is right.
So what is right? What is wrong? How can we trust our own judgement, when all that we know is corrupted lies, fed to us since our birth?
That is the meaning of life: The impossibility of an incompetant human figuring it out.
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