he stood up, walking to the front of the classroom where he faced many people. all eyes were on him, and a particular pair stared at him differently than the rest.
though, he may not have thought of an answer before he was called up to the front of the classroom—other than what was written on his paper, then he definitely had one now.
on the piece of paper in front of him was the written response to that particular question, 'what is life?' it honestly could have been anything, you just had to write something down and read aloud what you wrote in front of the class.
after this, he would be graded on it, like the rest of the students. so some questioned, was the writing grammatically correct? did they proofread it? have they checked all the marks of the criteria?
same thing with presentation, how well they talked, and if they stared at the paper the whole time or made eye contact with the audience.
it was just a school assignment, but he wasn't thinking about whether he'd fail or not depending on what came out of his mouth. what he was focused on, was the question.
and so, his speech begun.
"i suppose there are a million of answers to this question. like every other question, people all have different answers. so, if i were to say... for example, the meaning of life is my career, you'd still continue to ask why? it's a never ending question upon question.
i think, most of you ask this question in your head at some point in your life. does your answer ever change? do you even have an answer at all?
what's your purpose? what does it mean to exist?
these questions are all linked to it. we're all born into this world for some reason, but we don't know why.
sometimes, it gets answered along the way. and sometimes, it doesn't. i think it's also just an open-ended question.
we don't know what we're here for. we're just here to live, but why?
and i think that's for all of us to figure out.
what is the meaning of life?
simply, i believe the meaning of life, is to find a meaning.
enjoy it, rupture it, do whatever you want. anything will, and can happen at any point of our lives, so you choose what life means to you.
whether your meaning of life is a person, a place, a dream. if you believe the meaning of life is to treasure every second of the day, make memories so that you could tell them to the future generations.
in the end, it's you who gets to choose what you're living for.
so to answer that question,
the meaning of life, is learning to live."
once he finished, he took his paper, taking a step back and handing it to his teacher's desk that was at the corner of the room. the teacher seemed to make a confused face once she took a quick look at the sheet she received.
he then made his way to his desk, passing the girl that never took her eyes off him during the entirety of his speech.
suddenly, she began clapping. he paused for a moment and looked down at her before continuing to walk to his seat which was right behind hers.
soon enough, the whole class began to clap. he didn't think much of it, barely smiling before he looked out the window with his chin rested on his palm.
slowly, he muted out the chatter in the background, focusing his peace on the view in front of him. it felt as if he could make out the words that were being exchanged among the students playing on the field. maybe if he stared long enough.
afterwards, he shifted his gaze once he saw the slight movement of hair from the girl in front of him. turns out, she was turning around to look at him.
she had a proud smile on her face. it was so sweet it and genuine, it felt like he was about to melt right then and there.
"good job, laundry boy." she tilted her head as her smile grew. it made her eye smile more visible. she had the resemblance of a puppy.
he let out a short laugh, "thank you." he said gratefully, in a tone that was so soft. the tone that he would only use on her. but, she wouldn't know that.
she wouldn't know... she wouldn't know that he only had a specific stare for her, or that he would sometimes scribble the images of her on his notebook that played in his head constantly in order to get her out of there.
she wouldn't know.
not the fact that he loves her so much. the fact that if a person were to ask what his dreams were, it'd be her. to be with her, to see her, to wake up to her.
she wouldn't know, that the only thing he had written on that paper that held so many lines within it,
was her name.
♡
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