When my heart formed inside my mother’s womb, did I feel alive yet, or already old? The second I was born, did I feel the hospital air hit my face, or feel my mother’s arms hugging me tight, keeping me close to her chest? Did I feel a tingle in my soft soles the first time they touched the hard ground, or did I just enjoy the smell of the grass? I don’t remember. I don’t remember any of it. But I want to go back. Why?
The lack of worry. The excitement. The unawareness. The ignorance. The happiness. That’s what I remember, and that’s what I want to go back to.
I want to go back to a time when I had no concept of money, because it is indeed as they say, The Eye of The Devil. Those that don’t have enough can’t even fulfill their basic human needs. Those that have just enough can do just enough. But those that have too much steal from those who don’t have enough. But how is it that you need money to eat, or have a place to sleep? When did the free land that was gifted to all of us, became the property of just some of us?
Life, the gift that keeps on taking. You are brought onto this world without your consent, and give just two options: deal, or die. How can I deal, when I cannot enjoy the silence of a forest without thinking of bills? But how can I die, when that means I can no longer listen to my favorite music? The choice is almost never there. No free will.
The earth, the sky, the seas, our brain, bones and blood, all going to waste because of the desire for something that was never meant to exist. Telling stories around a fire, making love, singing in the rain, and thinking of the human nature and the universe, this is what it was supposed to happen. We ruined it.
There is no purpose in life. None of us was born to do a certain thing. God’s not real. The only real things are your mind and blood. Because if I were to crush you, to strip you of everything, both physically and mentally, the only things left would be those. Your ideas, your knowledge, your moral values, and your blood, splattered on all of those thoughts.
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