Reasons

If anyone would pause for a moment, at any hour of any day, there is what one calls life. There, in the center of the motions of the world lie things unseen, and such relics of history that looking would not penetrate. The collective movement of people pursuing their own motivations, the dilation of time as the stationary remains, this universe revolves with differing dimensions experiencing chains of causes and effects. Then there is the motion of the self that puts forward every occurrence into its own accord, embedding the physical into a subjective ideal that becomes, in essence, more real than what may exist alone.
   
The existence of our very own thoughts, however, is not justifiable by ordinary circumstances. The purpose of a thinking man cannot be seen in a simplistic way, for it is by no means simple in itself. It is a wonder that the world seems so normal even with a very large social structure of rational beings. How can reformers of existence change the world but still make it whole? The capability of the human will to edit what is would be such a sovereignty over things, and in fact it is too powerful that differences between persons will rip existence apart. But the shared uniqueness of each individual is undeniable, and thus the harmony of the universe would become unreasonable. Is life embedded into a still higher order of being, and that independent activities are actual manifestations of this? If this is so, man becomes a slave of what can be termed as fate, that the will is actually a gear in an eternal mechanism and, in essence, do not exist altogether. If not, however, the other conclusion is that every individual acts and thinks exactly alike, that human beings are actually a single organism with a very huge and complex mind, subdivided into portions that represent the highest form of logic - and which would give birth to every human on earth. This is mysticism on the other hand, and further deductions would lead us to a self-schizophrenic perspective. What, then, is this life for? How do we exist? What is there to being a man?

Such questions dwell on a realm we may never ever reach, that in which human logic would not understand. Purpose, however, is a consequence of the continued existence of thought. A thinking being cannot exist - and would not continue to exist - if not for its knowledge of self-importance. Curiosity would penetrate the questions of being, and a lack of true purpose would lead to suicide. Thus the answer lies deep within the workings of our mind, inside the composition of the self that perpetuates our being us.

Why do we walk around the grocery, looking for the things we ought to buy? Why do we buy things, and look forward to consuming it or to giving it to someone? If we are to use the things we buy, why do we want to use it for ourselves? Why do we take care of ourselves?

If we are to give the grocery items to someone, for what reason do we do this? Why do we give others what they need, enabling them to be well like us?

Why do we care for other people? Why do we have friends or loved ones that we feel concern for? Why are we happy with them? Why do we need them?

Why do we talk to the people we consider closest to us, things which we think are important, things which affected us, or things which simply are part of ourselves?

Why do we desire to be with our parents, to hug them or talk to them or to simply be with them? Why do we feel secure when we are with them?

Why do we gaze at that person from a distance, longing to be near yet fearing what will happen if it comes? Why do we feel uneasy when that someone is with us, and is simply looking at us equally unsure of what is happening? Why do we close our eyes, when the universe seems to be just between the two of you?

And why, one really wonders, do we become mesmerized at the stars at night, thinking of the beauty this world contains?

Why do we live? Why do we desire to live? Why do we have life? Why do we love?

Am I living?