Absurd, Hypocrisy of Life

If age is just a number, how come we’re always counting? And if it is not a number, then it means that it does matter despite what they tell us and what we say all the time.

If sex is just a part of the matter, then, why is it all we think about as often as every day; and if it is the most important thing in the world, then our constant obsession is in fact a very real, existing problem and doing it would be doing something about this matter or issue.

If love is so unreal and romantic and only deserves to be in the books; if it is only suffering, then what is it about the sudden rush of romance that sweeps you off your feet and makes you fall so madly in love; even if it’s only the falling in love that you are falling for; could you resist?

If a single moment of serenity is all you need to be calm and to have peace of mind, then why can you not let go of a single moment of your constant many sounds and all their hassle? Is it that you don’t want to? Is it you’ve clung to them for so long and it’s rather uncomfortable for you not to have them around for a single moment of quiet?

If masks are so fake and full of games like you say, why, then are you constantly wearing from your massive collection of masquerades and put up with their many colors? To satisfy this ever-expanding audience who doesn’t even enjoy the show at all times? Are they even worth all the effort, all the hassle? Are they for you to entertain and isn’t life a much bigger game to play?

If smiles make you look pretty and all you want to do is pout, is it still okay to curve your lips and show something unreal? Is it real to hide that touch of sorrow and put up with a fake twisted line? Being pretty, isn’t it supposed to come from the heart in order to be real? Isn’t real sadness more beautiful than a fake smile? Or is it just me?

If there was a particular dose of fear in your heart and you just had to face it and live with it, will you try to run away and do otherwise? Would it be fair to you to escape the fear and face the fear of it catching up? The fear of facing that total stranger inside you, is it not that sweet sense of thrill that makes life worth living with a considerable dosage of adrenaline sprayed in the air right through the core of your heart?

If you felt sad one day, is it not that eventually you will feel anything but sad? Is it not that all in life passes sooner or later and leaves us with the only real thing in life which is the passing of it and its gradual non-existence that’s full of life? Isn’t god’s little irony all we’re left with at the end of the day? Or do you call it the universe’s master game or perhaps karma? Isn’t all we do all day playing that game? Or is it just me?

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