Life is full of irony. In fact, life itself is ironic. In literal terms, it means the existence of an individual yet nobody in this world actually exists. We are all moving images, the dream like creatures of hopes, potentials and promises. In the end, all these images will blur out and fade into darkness. The light will disappear and nothing would be left. The very belief in the existence of humans is more of a disbelief in what actually exists. What really exists is the faith. The faith that nobody tends to have these days. You are not real, I am not real. What real is, is the faith we have lost. The faith we lost in us, in others. The faith we have lost in the belief in afterlife. Life is ironic, it let's you live it up as much as you like, and will never let you feel it soaking itself out of it all that you are living. And soon the happiness you thought you'd cherish forever seems to last, the love you thought will stay even when you are gone, doesn't stay. All that is left behind you are the fragments of what you were made of; fantasy. I don't mean to sound like the saddest person on earth, but lately I'm not feeling so existent. Just eighteen years of age and I feel like I'm the most unrealistic thing in the history of existence. I have made this life my home. Home is where all the pieces come together, all the longings end, and we are filled with joy and satisfaction. This world can't be my home. Home is where everything stays. Stays forever and never lasts. This world shall last one day. And knowing the fact, we have covered our eyes and turned our faces away from the certainty. Instead of collecting what we can take with ourselves to the journey to afterlife, we are busy living in the moment. What I forgot to take in my mind, is the thought that I am more of a document saved in the piles of files locked up in some part of the whole system. Sooner or later, just with one click I'll be gone. Deleted. But only deleted from the world we think is real. And just when I realize this fact, I tend to contradict with this very idea of myself being deleted. I will not be deleted. In fact, moved from the unreality to the reality and saved there permanently. I will wrong myself if I say I can't wait to be saved in the opposite. I can wait. Because, I want to. I want to stay in unreality and let the irony space out all the life that I have. I want this life to push me into sorrow and horrors, and then pull me out into calm and peace. I want this life to hit me with it's hardest and then console me. I want this life to teach me the sense of living and then take it all away from me. I want this life to be the best it can and then turn itself into it's worst. I want this life to tell me all about reality and then take down the curtains and show me how unreal it is. Don't we all want this? We do. We tend to have faith and belief but really we don't. All we believe is that life will be good. Well, it is good. It's the best thing that has ever happened to us...
