Why do we live?

Posted on: April 30, 2013


As I was browsing through random pages on the Internet, one thought came to mind.

“Why do we live?”

Do we live just to die in the end? Or is it more than that?

Have you ever really wondered what will become of our selves several decades from now? As for me, I would probably find someone to call my own family if I won’t become an old maid with a dozen cats to lull me to sleep every night. Or I could be more than that.

I have done many things in the past. I don’t even remember most of them. I just remember being this curly-haired girl in her prep class who cried because she didn’t know who to play with in recess. I was this sickly girl in fourth grade who had her mom visit her at school during lunch time because she needed her medicine to be injected through the nose. I was a pimply sixth grade without stage parents who would do anything to guarantee their children’s position in the honor roll. I was just a shy student who got in a mixed students section in her first year high school. I’m pretty sure I have done more than that. 

Oh, yes, I have done more than that.

I met my best friend for fifteen years in first grade. I was judged in fifth grade for certain things I didn’t even know I was doing but I got through that. I won in the first poem I have written publicly in sixth grade because my homeroom teacher rooted for the underdog. I gained a lot of friends who can count on me and who I could count on in high school. I went to the (best) university in the Philippines even if I wasn’t one of the popular smart kids who teachers picked to enter academic contests in secondary school. I entered an organization (UP ERG) which has taught me to become a thinker and a doer. And yes, I have been doing more than that. 

I went to Canada (with my family), totally oblivious to everything that is different, and tweaked the composition of what was me. I have gone a long way from the past me who would cower in front of a crowd, from the past me who would be afraid to stand up for what is right, and from the past me who would choose to just be a wallflower. Right now, I try in my best abilities to be seen in a crowd of looming giants. I speak my mind regarding matters that are of concern to me. I have chosen to be someone who is heard and who is followed by her peers because she is making a difference. I have gone a long way.

And then I realize, I was already more than that. 

I am quite certain that life has the means to its end but will that ever be a risk in living life? Why we ever live in the first place has nothing to do with death. Death is a physical end. Life doesn’t end there. We are not the same person everyday. We mature to become better (or worse) versions of yesterday. May we be better or worse today does not dictate what we will be in the morrow.

People don’t live just to die.

Then, why do we live?

People live to experience what this world has to offer. We live to enjoy happiness and to bear the agony of suffering. We live to try to complete this part of us that will not be complete once we cross over in the afterlife.

Is that really why we live? Maybe. But one thing is for sure.

We live because we are life itself.


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