Why was I born into this world? What is the meaning of my breathing here? I ate a cold cutlet for lunch, looked through the window and went to the toilet. I took coins and gave it to the poor man. Why to go anywhere – I do not understand? Coins collected and I bought a house, created the children and planted trees. Why was I born on this earth? Is it by accident?
To be in the space and not to see your inferiority, how can this be? I’m a person! I’m writing this text, damn it! I type it with my fingers on the keyboard, there is internet here. How this is not significant at all in a world where there is no goal for the future.
Why did the chane gave me these hands, why I was not born in the abyss of the seas, because if you think about it, I could be a shark of the Red and North Seas. There must be an answer, there must be a clue! There are even philosophers, clever men, we. Who seeks answers, feasts hope, because there is a mission we have on Earth.
Otherwise, after all, what we have to do? To drink poison, to be killed? Why, if after me – there will be nothing? Now there is at least me. I can enjoy myself. To feed, put ot bed, to care. Let me drink some water, while my five-fingered hand moves cheerfully from the order of the mind.
No more goals! No more missionaryism!
I’ll just leave myself here. On this Earth, on the Internet and in the thoughts of living and future people!