Existance, in itself is quite the feat. We live and hear the stories of those that came before us, we live to make our own stories to leave behind, and we die. Those without a story have a story. A "void reason" as someone vaguely put it, even if we do not have a reason, there's still a reason because the reason there's no reason is still a reason. Catch where I'm going?
Our lives are so precious and full, each life counts. Each life has a reason for being no matter what anyone says. If any life is insignificant, than all lives are insignificant. Because no matter what anyone says, everyone is equal, whether in wealth or poverty, simply because they exist. Anything that lives; flora and fauna, and people or just everything in general has a purpose. To just be there,to exist to others around them.
Because if we really get down to it, everyone's life is a story. That story is joined by hundreds and millions of other stories and so on until we're done getting the story for every living being on this earth. Then we have to account for the rest of the universe and the number of stories would reach to infinity. We can make the most of our lives, to live and create a story, to be.
I can't say I know why or how this is possible to exist. It just happens that way. Our lives: through it's hardships of happiness or depression, are here to be lived. I can enjoy to be in the state of being. To rejoice, love, cry, mourn,and hate...These feelings will become the state of being,and everyone emotionless to overemotional and everywhere in between, are equal.I'm pretty sure I might've confused someone,it's hard to explain, but in some peculiar way it does work out. ~M
Return?