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Loving Life

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Once upon there was a girl. That girl wondered through life not knowing what to do. So she followed life instead of leading it.

That girl was satisfied with her life because she knew nothing more.

She started to wonder what it meant to live because there were so many bright and happy faces all talking about living life and enjoying it. She was also living life, but she certainly wasn’t enjoying it as much as them.

“Then if I stop living life, does that mean I will become happy?” she shook her head. It was ridiculous. If she stopped living, she wouldn't feel anything at all.

Even though she thought it was ridiculous, the thought grew in her mind. "What if I stopped living?" What would happen?

She concluded nothing. Nothing would change. Time does that to people. Worlds keep spinning and people keep moving and living. Life is one straight road to a cliff.

“What would be the point of living,” She wondered, “If nothing changes?”

She later attended the funeral of her friend. She saw the casket being pulled away and draped with velvet. She was also, at the time, wearing velvet. It was a sure sign to her that she was next.

A peace settled within her. If she was next, she wouldn’t have to worry. All the problems in the world don’t matter. She then started to love the little things: sunshine, coffee, daisies, music. And suddenly, she began to love life.

The realization hit her one day and then, and she slowly sank to the ground. “Too late, too late,” She moaned and began to cry. “I have only begun to love it all at the very end. Why did it happen too late?”

She never understood the meaning of life, for it had no meaning. It was a time that was evanescent and she understood that. Once she accepted that fact, she could not accept the end.”I should of never loved life so I wouldn’t have to go through this pain, even if the happiness was so beautiful.”

She wanted to stop loving because it was so painful. She began to worry about loving, and with it, she stopped loving because she was too busy to notice the little things: sunshine, coffee, daisies, music.

She died later, alone, sad, and miserable. Worse off than before the funeral, before she began to love. People looked at her with pity, without understanding, because she fought against loving at the end. Who would want to understand? They loved life too much.





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