The world continues to exist. To breathe, to beat to hunt and find.
It continues. With or without us.
Our birth. Our deaths. Lives are broken and deformed everyday.
6 billion of us.
So how can one human being. Out of billions think of themselves as special. As different.
How can one human being think and dare to believe, with audacity no less, that their hopes will come true. That their dreams will take shape and their eyes will someday look upon the world happier.
What is happiness? It is such a fleeting emotion. We attach it to materials. To animals. And to people.
The wise say that we must not attach happiness to anything. We must leave it alone, hanging like a lonely bottle from a tree, swinging with the breeze. Moving and turning unbroken with whatever may come.
Can a human do that?
Hard as it is, in this century, to detach oneself from materials, I believe I’ve accomplished a lot when it comes to that.
But when it comes to people.
Well… that’s a different story. Because my happiness, as a whole, has been broken into pieces and passed out unevenly among people that I love. Thus, my happiness, the wholeness of it depends on the effect the people around me have on me.
My happiness is carried, a fragile unboiled egg, unknowingly by the people around me.
I believe the same goes for a lot of people.
Wether it is less or more, doesn’t matter. Our happiness, our joy in the end does not so much depend on us, but the people around us.
Upon coming to that conclusion, at least for me. What can I do?
Nothing. This is the human emotion. This is how it is. During the best of times, my heart is full of euphoria, a happiness, and during the worst of times it is filled with such pain.
So. In a way, upon thinking of the 6 billion people, and how we as individuals can stand out, or have belief in our lives, I believe it is possible.
We all can live a part of a dream. Our dreams. If only we look hard enough. Long enough.
Try hard enough.
Life is a play and we are all actors/actresses. We are thrust upon the stage with no lines, no practice,no review and no background info.
With nothing but our costume on. Expected to act and speak, equally confused and equally uncertain of the plays ending.
Yet we act. We move. We cry and laugh and give birth to new plots and twists and turns.
The play hasn’t ended yet. It’s been going on for hundreds of years. We are only replacements.