The Why?
Lately I have been wondering why my brain is wandering more than intended. Is it just a state of unclarity or a question? I tremble upon things I have seen before, but not with the same eyes anymore. I realized a lot more about things and I am not sure what to do. I end up asking the same question, just a slight shift from being the same: why? Why? I never could summarize the solution to this infinite question, because I may never find it, as it could be dwelling under the deepest oceans. But if this is what is making me alive, I would rather keep asking it than nothing at all. Why? It speaks for itself and, in its entirety, all the things existential on this planet we call home, but it might not be that why? But it must be some why I relate the most to. Then it occurred to me the why is my present; it speaks for itself as the time is the? present. The clarity made me angry, I have nothing to chase anymore. But I looked deeper and the present was an unending myth. It’s what I make of it: that shall be the why? If I know the why, I may know everything. But what is everything if the why can never really be defined? We live in a world of exhaustion, unsure of our own reflection. The why is the one that keeps us unique to each other, as it is the only thing that makes me “ME.”