Tat is like being a beginner at basic math but trying to grasp the concept of Algebra II, there’s things you have to learn first before progressing to that stage.
Overall, life and purpose coexist, and death is a transformation into the life after. We advance through life, learning and growing, hopefully becoming a better version of self; self- evolution, then pass on to our next journey. As the universe around us is constantly evolving, how can we think our species will remain the same? Extinction could be an outcome if humans continue down this destructive path, but if we turn away from greed, power, and ego, we can possibly evolve with everything else. Tere is a reason we have consciousness and other species do not. We have a purpose, but it is up to us to acknowledge it and choose to take that path. Tis is my opinion of life’s purpose, death, and the life after.
I Am from Where They Came by Yen Nguyen
“Do you remember your first day here?” a distant voice wakes me from my wandering mind and brings me back to reality.
I turn my head and realize it came from my father. He continues: “Tis place brings you so many memories, doesn’t it?”
I give him a moment of silence as an answer and turn my head back forward. I hate to admit that it truly does, and this quietness is my effort of resistance. I wish I could disagree with my father. But as I am standing in the middle of this place after so many years, the unshakeable reality tears the thin veil I draped over it. Nonchalant as always, it has always been here, laughing at my useless efforts to run away. Tis place undeniably is a testament to my existence in the early stages of life. Unfortunately, when I was under its roof, this testament left me nothing but the emotions of sorrow and fury. I wanted to delete this chapter from my life story as I have just appeared in this world from the middle of nowhere. However, since human capability is limited, I had no choice but to pretend those memories never existed. Yet, there is no turning back now, so I decide to face the past and try to stuff it in, so my life story has a beginning.
“Yes, I do,” I reply awkwardly. Te “place” I am staring at unconsciously, whose vague memories are like waves rushing into my thoughts, is the Preschool of Roses. Although the rest of them are only disjointed segments, I remember every single moment of my first days in this preschool. Tat day, my parents took me here and called this place a playground, promised they
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