What does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to be human? Is
there any significance and purpose to our lives? What kind of animal are we
that we ruminate, not just our own existence, but the existence of the cosmos
as well? These are questions that may never be answered.
I think, therefore I am. I am, but I have no clue as to what it
is that I am. I cannot measure my thoughts/consciousness. My consciousness is
intangible. My own existence dumfounds me, and I cannot grasp its magnitude.
Many people will assert that the answers to these questions are
found in religious texts, but religious texts are filled with many
contradictions. Blind faith, they say, is what is needed to obtain the answers
to these philosophical questions. But faith's credibility has been damaged by
the actions of the men who posses it.
I am alive, but I have no idea what being alive implies. My mere
existence paralyzes and disables my intelligence, and it renders my desire to
know the purpose of life and existence useless. As long as I am alive, perhaps I
am forever blinded by the purpose of life. It seems as though life itself
cannot ascertain its own relevance. Perhaps in death, the purpose of life is
disclosed.
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