God is Dead, so are You, and so am I
It's that time of your life, when the most familiar constant becomes a vague, distant mirage. Unwelcome variables come crashing on to your fragile bones, teasing you, mocking you, questioning you. And you ask yourself, "What is the purpose to all this?". This perpetual tides of synonymous past crises is here yet again, and so goes the vicious cycle of this sad little thing we call life.
If karma does exist, is this mine? Or would the inevitable, eventual fall from grace be the grand total accumulation of all those past original sins? What would be of death then? What would it be of me now. Lying here on the cold floor, staring into space on the 11th hour, wondering and dreaming of the not so distant future and how many more fuck ups it has in store.
It's that time of your life, when the cynic turns to a realist. Questions upon questions upon impossible questions come screaming at you, teasing you, mocking you, questioning you. To which there is no plausible answer, and you ask yourself, "What is the purpose to all this?". The creatures of habit that we are keep falling onto the monotony of life, and so goes the vicious cycle of this sad little thing we call life.
If God exists, why do babies die? Why is there so much sadness and suffering that blankets the world? Why must life be a never ending test, where the rules change everytime and all else is out of our control? Why are there incurable diseases, natural calamities, extreme poverty and war? Why do you let our bodies bleed dry and our souls cry an infinite river?
