Answers

The most important questions dont have any answers.

What is life ?  What brings happiness ? Whats really important ?

Ive really begun to think that Life is Living me rather than me living it. Days turn into months and months into years and nothing quite changes. We continue to live because quite frankly, there isn’t another option. They say you must follow your dreams but the truth is that Reality beats the shit out of your dreams. It disturbs me to think that what used to be important a while ago doesn’t really matter much now. We know that the world is very big and our roles are insignificant, then why can’t we stay put with it ? We know that perfection cant be achieved, then why do we run after it?

The closest we can come to satisfying ourselves is by following our hearts. Believe me, even that is not easy. For reasons totally unfathomable, the heart isn’t always the best lighthouse. The only gratification you can allow yourself after everything is messed up that you at least weren’t another cog in a machine. But if your heart does succeed, then thats another story. (this case normally happens in books and movies) If happiness is what we seek, then I am afraid even thats not worth the bargain, once again, we really don’t know what brings us happiness.

In short, we are in a deep mess and there isn’t much we can do about it. We can try, but thats it.

P.S:

On the 11th of May, 1996, Carl Sagan pointed at a certain blue dot and spoke about it.

“Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “superstar,” every “supreme leader,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there–on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.”

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