As a young girl, thoughts and questions filled my mind and at any moment could-- and would-- pop out without warning. I would sit on that question, and ponder it as deeply as a 6 year old possibly could, and the moment it left my lips, I needed an answer. But to a 6-year-old kid, I was easily satisfied. So I moved on. I was happy. As I grew older, I began to realize that everybody had different answers to my questions, but why I wondered? If it’s the answer, it’s the answer so why am I getting different ones? But the only way to answer that question is to ask. But asking just got me more and more different answers, and I found myself more and more lost in the oblivion of questions with endless variations of answers.

So I stopped. And I thought. And I thought some more. And soon that question left my mind as I began to think about other seemingly more important things. Years flew by, my childhood was over and soon life was a series of finding friends, forming relationships, doing things that made me happy. In my mind, everything was permanent- and going well. But suddenly those real friends, real relationships, and real things weren’t there and weren’t making me happy. Had I outgrown the things that I had once so dearly loved? Did I ever love them? Had they outgrown me? Soon the questions that entranced me as a child came to light once more. When I ran to my mom, crying because everything was changing and nothing was the same all she had to say was “everything happens for a reason."

And then everything was so… Quiet. For the first time, her response to my issues was not sufficient. I felt numb, constantly wondering and wondering and wondering-- Does everything happen for a reason? Or is that just a way that people self-medicate so that each drop of pain is a BIT more bearable because somewhere somehow there is something to believe in an answer to their questions. No, I could not would not believe that. The woman whom I always listened to for everything was wrong. Did the girl who once was my best friend completely cut me out of her life so that I could make room for new friends? Do 34,000 people commit suicide each year to help me become a stronger person? What if the new friends never come or I never become a stronger person? Why is the world so self-obsessed that they think every single thing that happens is for a reason? Why can’t something bad happen because of a disease or loss of self worth? Why do people keep making excuses for societal flaws? There is no possible way for people to solve problems until they realize that they, in fact, are the problem.

Of course, there are lessons to be taken from tragedies, to help make important improvements that society needs. But the most important lesson that can be learned is to not let history repeat itself. And the only way to do this is through awareness. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that life is a blessing and a curse. It can be unbearably beautiful, or beautifully unbearable. Take it as it is-- or don’t. You could demand better, you could evoke change in whatever way you can. If every person did that, then everything that happens in life could be for a reason.