A Rogue Thing

This one is going to be a bit rough. Well, then again, when are they never?

I recently had a thought spiral; what is the point in living? The question isn’t regarding the thought of not seeing a point in living, but just a rogue ponder of why we are living. If we MUST earn a living in some form, solely to support ourselves and contribute to the forever failing government that rarely gives anything back, then what is the point?

Take a moment to question it. We go to school in order to develop our minds in order to gain the knowledge to eventually get a job, and once we get a job, we have must work until we are at an age where we are more than halfway through our lives (sometimes 3/4 through), and once we retire, we don’t have the time, nor the energy to do what we always wanted to do. And after that? Well, that’s where things become bleaker than ever.

For those lucky few who do the work they’d happily do for the rest of their lives – I’m happy for you. For the rest, I feel your pain. I get it, I truly do.

I’m only 21, so I probably haven’t reached the point in my life where I’m happy with what I’ve done, such as starting a family. Yet, there’s a darkening thought that resides within that lifestyle; yes, starting a family is probably one of the best things that could happen within your life, but it can easily be one of the worst after time. I’m not saying that it’s something to avoid, I’m simply stating that everything ends at some point, and once it does, despair and sorrow sinks in.

I’m happy to be alive. That’s one thing I’m sure of, but I’m not happy that my life will eventually come to an end. That’s the one thing I know I can never come to terms with, and I know I’m not alone. It’s natural to fear death, and the struggle I’ll forever face is finding a way to give my life a meaning, whether that be doing what I dream of doing, or allowing myself to smile knowing that I can make someone else smile, too.

 

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