Why not talk about life in its entirety? Life is what there is. Without life, I wouldn’t be writing. Without life, you wouldn’t be reading. But what is life?
Do we have a certain destiny or fate cut out for every single one of us, or do we just float around in space and time, all dependent on the choices we do or don’t make? I believe in the latter of the two, though I like to think we all have a destiny. It would just make life so much easier, if we knew something good (or bad) would eventually show up. I find it hard to see the bright side of life at the moment. Not that I’m in any form of really poor situation. It’s just not as great as it has been. I’m rarely happy, like, the kind of happiness you find in kindergarten, when a child has successfully build a castle in the sand. That’s not me. I don’t build at the moment. Not with success, at least. I cling to the hope of a better tomorrow.
What are the true joys of life? Some say love, others say music, food, dancing in the rain. People have lots of opinions on this. My quick-answer would be music. Mostly because that’s my greatest joy right now. But then again, a good song goes like this:
The book of love has music in it,
In fact that’s where music comes from.
Some of it’s just transcendental,
Some of it’s just really dum.
I love it when you sing to me.
You can sing me anything.
(Peter Gabriel: The Book of Love) Obviously, music seems to come from love – or, the book of. Which might be true. I’d say that 99 % of all songs are more or less based on love, lost love or love that isn’t there yet. So is love the true joy? In that case, joy and sadness walks along hand-in-hand. Yes, that seems right. What gets you up, is the same thing that brings you down, whenever you lack it.
Is that me?
That’s probably the reason why I feel down at the moment. People around me feel love all the time. And yet they all seem to complain about their girlfriend or boyfriend not being perfect enough. Jeez, at least you guys have someone who loves you and is there for you when you need it. When I stare at my ceiling, I’m thinking about how lucky all of those guys are. How come they can’t see it?
They ought to be ashamed of themselves.