I love life. It may seem to be tough, but in reality, life means whatever I desire. Strangely, my crazy little mind discovered the meaning of life. Not by myself, not with a friend, but with a little assistance from everyone.
On the day of my discovery, it quickly became sad and rainy. Everyone was quiet, and people scrambled on the sidewalk with their marvelous and diverse umbrellas. I stumbled into a store with my mother, just as my ear caught the mumbles of a worker. “My life means nothing” he whimpered. “All I do is work, work, work.” I felt pretty miserable for the man, and my mind started to wander. As I pattered through the isle, I overheard customers saying things such as, “I enjoy shopping for new clothes. It’s like my life!” or, “I hate coming out here all the time. I feel like a lifelong slave.”
I thought about what I heard that day, and I questioned myself,
“What do I do? How’s my life going? What do I do that makes me joyful the most?” I thought, “I could do anything as long as a stick to it, and decide to go through with it.” I love to draw, hang out with family, play adventurous and challenging puzzle games, but there is so much I love doing. But then I remembered my most prized gift, my most amazing feat, my most outstanding feature, my most unbelievable fortune! The ability to live… to actually posses the very chance at living a long happy life. My life is living, and trying to enjoy every bit of it I can. I don’t get another chance, after all.
Though, everyone has their own choice of life… that’s when it all came and pummeled me in the face. There’s no specific definition to life. Life only means what you want it to. If someone attempts to retain you from your life, then you might as well ignore them. You can do what you want with your life. You can redefine the very meaning of your existence, by merely choosing. This, I believe.