Purpose

I cease to exist in between these hours.

The numbness.

The emptiness.

The void.


How can they all exist in me instead of life?


Whats the purpose of all of this?


Whats the purpose of existing?


Is it to find the things that break us, and let them?

To learn?

To grow stronger?


What then?


You’re left as a strong, broken human being.


Wheres the purpose in that? 


Why must things break, in order to learn and be strong.

Why must we suffocate in our own tears, just to feel the burden of the whole world.


Wheres the purpose in that?


Faith.

Believing in a higher power.

Praying to be strong, just to take in the punches that eventually break us.


Pieces left shattered all over, and we struggle to put them back to where they belong.

We don’t even know our own bodies.

How we work.

How we function.

We’re so oblivious to the extent that, we need strangers telling us what to do with ourselves.

With our own flesh and blood.


Wheres the purpose in that?


We were made to be broken.

We were brought into this life, with crying as the first sound to ever leave our lips.


Wheres the purpose of your mother holding you, comforting you, if she knows that you will eventually be broken just like her and the rest of the world.

Why use comfort to soften us, just so we could receive more punches.


Yes, I am still breathing.


But wheres the purpose in that.

Advertisements