On the Will to Wake
There are two reasons why our lives are just stories that slowly reveal themselves with each step as tragedies. One is that we, as human beings, have the ability to love. They other, is that everything, inevitably, comes to an end. This combination allows for only one possible outcome: we are forever disappointed. We only come to know and understand finite happiness, a world of endings. Those endings can be bitter, or something somehow acceptable, but the endings are what shape the skeleton of our past, and we can never really leave the past behind. As our lives progress, we collect recollections that reveal over and over again that there is nothing but end after end, nothing but slap after slap in the face.
Luckily, we also collect the beginnings. We collect the recollections of blossoming love and friendship, of the excitement of the unknowns, and of the seemingly endless possibilities in life that, when they don’t overwhelm, can provide some semblance of hope. Those are the recollections that occupy our minds as we find the will to rise with the sun. Those are the recollections that keep us afloat on murky waters when we are surrounded by a fog that eliminates our ability to determine when the sun is actually rising. No matter what, we must remember that, while every day comes to its end, like so much else in life, the sun will always rise tomorrow. The sun will always rise tomorrow, and so will we.