Why live?

Why are we all different? Why do we spend our entire lives figuring one another out? Why can't we all have the same thoughts, same ideas, same mentalities, same perspectives?

Well, what kind of a life would this be?

Why do we work? Why do we have to put in so much effort to get the things we want? Why don't the good things come easy?

Well... what kind of a life would this be?

Why is it that love is the most complicated, troublesome, emotional, tiresome, stressful, and the biggest hassle, but yet we live, and die, for it? Why love?

But what kind of a life would this be otherwise?


Most of the questions pertaining to life can be answered with that very rhetoric -

What kind of a life would this be?

or

What kind of a life would this be otherwise?

But that doesn't solve our problems, not in the least bit. Because then we ask,

So why live?

Why do we spend our entire lives, working and loving, knowing that every day we only come closer and closer to our deaths? Why do we dedicate our lives to providing for our children, our grandchildren, our great grandchildren, knowing we will not live to see how their lives turn out to be; and that they too, will eventually die?

But I know, those are questions most, if not all people ask. And it is a question no one knows the answer too. But here's something else to think about:

Do you think that maybe, just maybe, some people do end their lives ie. they commit suicide because they ask themselves that question and ultimately decide that the answer is to simply not live?

Maybe?