Why?

How many times have you heard the words, "Everything's going to be alright"? Sometimes with a pat on the shoulder, a hollow speech, and a camera you can’t see?

No matter you want to hear those words right? Want someone to hold you and speak grave words so casually they eventually become nothing but vowels pieced with consonants, sounds our vocal cords make through their vibrations, noise that the people of the past decided meant something, right? Wouldn’t you like that to be real?

But what do they mean, really?

Because how can you say that everything will be fine, if you don’t understand anything? How can you stand on shore, waving to someone drowning, telling them to “just breathe”? Ripping the eyes out of someone’s sockets, and tell them to appreciate how beautiful the world’s colours are? Drive a knife into someone’s throat, twist the veins around your steel blade, weaving a tapestry of your liking while they stare at you with cold, unmoving eyes until they choke to death?

What was the point, anyway?

You can lie to me all you want.

But nothing is alright, and nothing will be alright.

People live their entire lives on autopilot. Going about their routine lives, nothing more than obedient puppets. Tell me honestly, have you ever paused, gone into your head, and asked, “Hey, why am I doing this? Why am I even here? What’s the point of all this?”

We spend a quarter of our lives sitting in a classroom, and for what? So many, too many kids stew in frustration, resentment, hatred of the whirling fans and fluorescent lights and the white shirt they put on in front of the mirror every day.

Bullying and unfairness and injustice, a system of meaningless education but no morals.

Why are we judged for the way we look, something we can’t control? Why are we defined by the people around us, when we’re all here, for ourselves? Why is our world set in a way that what we have is never enough, and what we don’t is always better?

But the better question is, why do we exist? WHY DO WE LIVE?