Where would life take me, I don’t know.

If all what I’m spending my time on, these days and on the days to follow — would be things I would not regret in the future, I don’t know.

If I get to live a 100 years, I don’t know.

Who among my loved ones, will I would have to grieve for in the immediate or distant future, I don’t know.

Will my loved ones outlive me (I hope so), I don’t know.

Will I end up with someone I will grow old and have children with, I don’t know.

Will I have to suffer from diseases sooner or later, I don’t know.

Will I be involved in an accident, I don’t know.

Are there friends whose warmth I’ll never feel again, I don’t know.

Will there be more times when will I hear myself laugh until I feel like grasping for air, I don’t know.

How many times will I succumb to a kind of sorrow that will bring me to my knees, I don’t know.

How will people talk about me in my deathbed, I don’t know.

Will someone weep for me, besides my loved ones, I don’t know.

Will I ever get to know what I am here for or what life is all about, I don’t know.

There’s too much uncertainty in our finite lives. None of which we planned happened exactly as how we wanted. A lot of those people we intend to keep in our lives, now only exist in our blurry memories. What could be the reason for our next sorrow, joy and all other humanly emotions we have,  remains unpredictable.

We pity those who have chosen to take their lives by their own hands, those whose lives were taken by others or by accidents. We, who feel that way, must have known deeply and clearly how wonderful it is to live. But do we?

We constantly hustle and intentionally struggle in the present so that we can live in a future we want— as if life is just like painting in a canvas— as if death cares enough. We often try to control the uncontrollable. Such a tragedy.

We hold on to life for those fleeting moments of feeling deeply loved, success, happiness and the thought that we will live in such a way that in our deathbed — our loved ones, someone or a some people will weep, remember or immortalized us in their memories — or through a statue or perhaps a book. We live for what’s impermanent. What a comedy.

I’m not sure if I want to live again, if there’s an afterlife.

But right now, all that I can do is to enjoy every breathing moment that I have and make others’ life a pleasing experience too. I always try to, but admittedly, a lot of times I fail to do so. I will keep trying though.

I’m here now and I figure, I might as well make the most out of this life.