I touched my face and slightly moved my fingers around. I started feeling, something meaningless has happened. This skin, my eyes, my nose, my body, may be my soul seems to be meaningless.
Why have I born? Why am I struggling all day to prove myself? Is a master, really, waiting for me at the end to value what I’ve done all my life? Is really a God waiting up there?
These questions have always taken away peace of not only mine but also of many others, famous and non-famous.
It is really impossible to answer these questions. So don’t ask. Never…
I closed myself in a room for hours, not bothering about anything happening around. There was just me and my peace. And I started wondering, where this would lead.
I’ve always wanted to be acknowledged by others. So I wrote. I became a Writer. My words reached my readers. They did say “You’ve done well”. And I felt complete. Still, I’m sleepless, writing every day.
Again, I started feeling, why… Why am I doing this? What do I want to prove? To whom should I prove?
Questions with no answers…
My past is something that I should forget about, even if it is good or bad. I can’t move on with the hangover of past.
Like vise, Birth has no meaning and no one knows about the death. In between, what left, is a mere life. Our dreams, our passion, our hard work, our way to our will is what that creates meaning.
It is not the destination, but the journey is what matters. It’s a life worth living is what matters. You are the creator. So create it, as beautiful as it is in you dreams.
I don’t know was that a philosophy or something. But I guess, Silent days have made me a weird but yet a philosopher.