Importantce of leaving traces

So you see a footprint in snow and you question yourself where was that person going? What’s his story? What are his reasons? And you wonder. Will anybody question my reasons? Will anybody want to know my story? Will anybody be interested in where I’m going? Some will be equally drunk as you are and equally interested in those things. Other will be equally drunk and despise those questions. And some will be completely sober and won’t even be aware of the footprints in the first place yet alone wonder of those things. Those are the pitiful ones. Walking with their heads held high, certain insure of everything. Questioning nothing. Taking everything and everyone for granted. As it comes, as it seems. Not as it is. I pity them. For they will never know anything beyond the presented. Beyond the obvious. Beyond the socially accepted. If a hundred people say it’s ok, and you think the opposite, who knows for certain knows that you are the lunatic and not they. Who defines the reality? The majority? The “sanesain”? God? Yourself?

So why do people need to leave their footprint in the snow in spite of the fact that it will eventually melt and vanish? Because they are mortal and finite. Their deeds are measurable. Their existence countable and negotiable. Their personalities faulty. That is the ugly truth . One and only. And indisputable. And sad in the end. But hey, that’s life. Ugly and unpleasant? Real and true? Sad and at some point meaningless? Yeah, that’s life. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. That’s the life worth living. Worth knowing. And everything else? It’s all fake. False icons and corrupted values. Artificial smiles and plastic lives. Cocoons with painted faces walking around bumping in each other creating plastic relationships. One sincere day spent on the boat in the middle of the river with your closest friends means more than whole life spent not living, just complying. You are the key. The key in the pursuit of happiness in your life and in the lives of other if they allow you. Everybody makes their own luck. Make your luck. Twilight of love? Rubbish. Only if you want it. Bound to walk in chains till you die? Rubbish. Only if you choose it. Please, don’t choose it. Don’t want it. That’s not the life for you, for me, for anybody. That’s mirage. Life is to be lived, to be remembered, to be wanted. To be regretted? Sure. You can’t do everything right on the first try. You have to suffer, you have to make mistakes. And you will suffer, you will make mistakes and you will know that you are living.