When you’re about five or six years old you ask, “Why?”, because you don’t know, and you want to know.
I’ve noticed that I don’t ask that often anymore. I don’t ask it with my words. I’m silent, but my soul is screaming the monosyllabic word like a maniac.
Why?!?!?!
Life, it seems, is the period of existence where we are meant to discover our purpose for existence.