I would always come to this point of my life where I would question everything that’s on my radar and ask of its significance. I’d always play around the questions of life and death, how it makes me human and how it’s impacted me in the way I live. I cannot stave them off from my mind and heart, for these questions always keep me alive. Is it normal for one to ask these questions? How am I supposed to live a good life? What’s my direction? Where am I going? Am I happy? Why am I sad? What matters most in the end? What’s the story of my life?

These, they bother me. My life has always been a constant struggle to create the narrative one I’d be happy to read by the time I finish writing my book of life. But the problem is, I don’t know if I’ll be able to read it. I don’t know when I’ll finish it. Right now all I know the chapters and the drafts I’ve written aren’t looking good, but one thing I know is that, knowing that I’m asking these questions I’m on the right track to constant improvement.

Honestly, I’ve filled my life with positive vibes so much it’s desensitized me from reality. You know those positive quotes to keep you inspired and upbeat in life? I’ve gotten sick of them. Not because I don’t like them.

I see too much of them.

Too much noise. It’s as though I’m only floating on the surface of optimism, not understanding its reality. I want to, and I need to dive deep into the depths of life in order to understand its true reality. I crave the deep conversations and the deep thoughts, one that gives me ample of time to reflect and ponder on the realities of life.

I am missing that in my life right now and the ones who give me these words are those that I find in the youtube videos that I watch, the short lectures and the books that I’ve bought. And also my circle of people who always seem to give condescending remarks as to how I live my life. My family basically, because they are the biggest critic you can eber have in your life.

Well, all of the things mentioned above , they dismantle me.

They break my ego, shatter it and they leave me into pieces, so that I may learn to pick the pieces back and fix myself again. And I like that.

It’s invigorating.

I am dismantling myself again, and it’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. But the problem is, I don’t know how to fix myself. So I’m on an endless track of always finding a solution on how I can fix myself but the reality is: Once I fix myself, will I then be happy forever?

Is happiness a means or an end?

Is happiness a journey or a destination?

But there is joy in fixing the problem, in always finding a solution. It keeps me going. It keeps me upbeat and…human. I think, a lot of us are in a bad state today because we make happiness…an end.

A destination.

What makes us human?

The enigma lingers on…

I’m dismantling, I’m dismantling…