Speak

Do you ever wonder why people talk so much? We talk even when no one is listening, when people are just sitting there acting as if they are comprehending everything you are saying, but in actuality they are completely caught up in their own minds. Why do we continue to speak?

Do we do it to fill space? Because talking makes time pass more quickly? More painlessly? Why are we so interested in moving time along at such an unnatural pace? Why don’t we enjoy the sound of silence? Why don’t we enjoy stretching time as far as it will expand? Why don’t we savour the few moments we have in life? Because, in the end, that’s all that life is, a few moments. And those few moments define us completely.

I guess you could say that life is useless in a way. Well, maybe not useless, but very redundant. Why is it that we endure and withstand so much suffering and utter boredom just so that we can experience savour those few absolutely delicious and juicy moments in our lives, the moments that define our absolute being? Why is it that we subject ourselves to such stress and pressure only to realize that it’s all gone in the end anyway? Everything is gone. Your soul floats off into the oblivion and your body decomposes into the ground, you are forgotten with time, and people move on. Why do we place such importance on our social status, on how much money we make, how much money we spend, or how well we are liked? If people started living their lives for themselves, things would be simpler, life would be simpler.

There is this mythical mold that was apparently formed for us by “them”—whoever “they” are—and we have been taught to melt ourselves down and pour ourselves mindlessly into this folklore fabricated cookie cutter image. We are taught to be completely devoid of individuality or creativity or original thought in order to learn and follow the rules of life. And where does this lead us? Absolutely nowhere, because nowhere is the only place to go.

We start from nothing and we end with nothing, so what exactly is the point of this “something” we call life? The ending and the starting points are exactly the same, so why is it that we experience so much change and growth throughout our entire lives just to end up where we started. Maybe growth and experience isn’t the meaning or goal or purpose of life, maybe peace is. We start with absolute peace, we end with absolute peace. We must go through our entire lives experiencing disaster and chaos only to realize, in the end, that where we started was exactly where we needed to be.