What is the point of looking in the mirror? What you see today will be but a remembrance someday; someday, you'll see wrinkled skin and broken hair, lustreless eyes and have but a memory of how you used to be. Why should you travel the world, when one day your knees and muscles won't let you? What is the point of living your life to the fullest, when one day, you won't be able to anymore? What is the point of having profound conversations with the people, when one day, you may not be able hear others unless they shout? Why are you so keen on witnessing the world's beauty, when your eyes may one day be hidden away from it? What's the point of reading and learning so much, when your brain may eventually stroke out and cease to understand? What is the point of going through such ordeal to find the one you love, when your health will suck the joy out of your life, no matter which person is by your side? What is the point of saving money, collecting properties and cars, when you'll be too weak to enjoy any of it, anyway?
Why do we selfishly aspire to so much, when we die without any of it, after immense physical struggle, being stripped of all our honour on a hospital bed with our excretions pooling beside us in a bag?
Why do we find so much pride in that which is temporary, which gives us happiness for one fleeting moment, and then only serves as a yardstick to remind us what we cannot have anymore? Maybe our lives would be better if we were locked up in an isolated cold, dark box the whole time, with nothing to see, hear or feel.

Musings of a twenty two year old

There is one unanswered question that keeps me awake at night nowadays, though been answered many times doesn't fit as well as what I've recently realised, for in this overpopulated world where most of us ironically hear more life stories on TV shows than in real life, my budding profession has already blessed me with a window to subject myself to others' personal encounters and keep their valuable experiences stored away in a tiny box in the corner of my mind for an opportune moment to whip them out and put them to use, whether it be the loss of a beloved family member or the uncalled hurtful words from a friend, since such a time is bound to come in the kind of a world we live in, where if our skin is dark then we're charcoal, if it's light then we're a ghost, if we're short then we "aren't life-size", if we're tall then we're intimidating, if we don't do work, we're lazy but if we do, then "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", if we have a point of view then we're narrow minded and if we stay neutral then we "can't take a stance", if we're dominating, we're arrogant and if we're submissive then we're a pushover, if we pay attention to our clothes, we're self obsessed and if we don't then we're a slob, where hypocrisy is the king of all minds, where we yearn for company, yet resent social commitments, where we thank God for our parents, yet resent them for half our lives, where we attribute our failures to those who've raised us, but our successes to solely ourselves, where we hope and struggle for children but always mess them up in our own sweet way once they come, where we cry when our grandparents die and cry if they don't soon enough, where we long for normalcy but find only monotony, where we're in a hurried struggle to go to school, to work, to find a companion, to create spawn, to raise them, to send them off to live their own life, only to regret it all in the end; this makes me wonder if there really does exist the balance everyone frantically searches for, that we try to attain our entire life and keep nudging the pointer right and left for until we die, still unbalanced, because we didn't do what was to be done, we didn't get above the trivialities to the things that are more important, things bigger than us, our career, our children, our family, our friends, things that can be found only when we step outside the sandbox that we've built our own little world in, when we get into someone else's and only when we make a heartfelt difference, when we see that the real meaning of "man is a social animal" means more than parties and conversations, is when our life has served its purpose, and to realise this, is the answer to my question.