Do You Exist?
I don't know why we exist, or how do we got into existence.
Someone must have created us. But who created our creator? Or did we create ourselves? Or are we here from the beginning of time?
The human brain isn't exactly intelligent. There are many questions unanswered. But we want to know, even if life doesn't want us to know. Humans are meant to fail.
Humans are hungry for knowledge. Consumed by greed, we take something from the world. We take and take, we do not give. Until the world has nothing to give anymore. The more we pursue for more, the more we are dying.
Why are we created if we are this wicked? Maybe we're just a pigment of someone's imagination. Him, being the author. Us, being the characters. An author who just do what he pleases with his characters. Shower us with blessings, make us happy with our lives, then tragedy comes, we all die in the end. Of course, story is boring if there is no conflict or tragedy.
Whatever happens, we just give in to our story. Whether we like it or not, we just live because we can. We continue our existence, because it has already begun.
The Way I Exist
Things I notice as I continue my existence