Novel & Cerita Life Is Journey Not A Destination

'Life is similar to a bus ride. The journey begins when we board the bus. We meet people along our way of which some are strangers, some friends and some strangers yet to be friends. There are stops at intervals and people board in. At times some of these people make their presence felt, leave an impact through their grace and beauty on us fellow passengers while on other occasions they remain indifferent. But then it is important for some people to make an exit, to get down and walk the paths they were destined to because if people always made an entrance and never left either for the better or worse, then we would feel suffocated and confused like those people in the bus, the purpose of th

Do you want to know what the true meaning of life really is? Fine, I’ll tell you. Here is the truth that nobody wants to say out loud: Life isn’t some radiant journey towards a predestined place, some fairy tale where your choices magically all matter. It's a simple loop. Wake up, pretend you're happy, sleep, and dream. Repeating this until you rot. People nowadays cling to words such as 'dreams', 'aspiration' and 'purpose' as if chanting them will keep the darkness away, but deep down within us we all know that’s what is waiting at the end. Absolute Nothingness. Just simple silence.

I will rage against the dying light. They say that life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"

Reality was a cruel mistress. “I might. However, I wouldn’t know how it feels. The boy had to suffer in order to find his ending. That’s just how life works. It doesn't matter if you lived for ten years or a thousand years, it’s the same. You can’t undo the past or know what the future has. You can only walk in the present. Experience is a useful factor but it isn’t absolute. That’s why wise men have said that life was a journey and not a means to an end.” “Isn’t it lonely? Weren’t there times you felt that death would have been easier? Wouldn’t the story be less depressing if the boy managed to die with his mother or saved her with his dying breath?”

she quickly said, glancing at him. "Then there is no finality in saying that you ended up in a place. If it is the wrong one, you always have the option to leave." "I wish it were that easy. You can't expect a road to be free of speed bumps and potholes. And sometimes the road comes to an end! Just like that. And you have no choice but to take a different path. Bottom line is that it's okay. It's okay to walk slowly. It does not matter what path you are on; as long as you are on it, it will lead you somewhere."

“Why,” “Well now Jack, I always think my life is a constant journey. The current thinking one day I will be at the place I always wanted to be.” She smiled looking pleased and thoughtful. “So, you are still on the road of discovery.” “Yes, but I am not sure I can call it a cross road yet.” “I like the word…cross roads. I think I might be heading that way. In truth it started day Jason arrived,” he reached for his coffee. “What do you mean?”

“We must always remember life is a journey, the road will not always be smooth.” “When riding in a carriage, one does not always get a full appreciation for the struggle of navigating bumps in the road.” I say icily. She gives me a humorless smirk. “Yes. I suppose you know everything.” “There are many things still left unknown to me.” I say carefully, absconding the true meaning from any eavesdropper.

“There is no destiny that is chosen by someone for you. No destiny can choose death for you. There is no destiny so coward! That chooses no rebel for you. Whatever destiny that calls, is more than a scheme! Differentiate between destiny and schemes, destiny comes from unseen, which we build ourselves. Schemes come from plots that are set for us”, said the voice calmly. “Who to trust then? Every face seems treacherous, sly, cunning, and luring in this world. I wish to hideaway. And run away”, she spoke dreamily, inhaling the warmth of the lavenders deeply, filling her lungs even more.

Then she reads part from a letter that I never managed to finish writing, “My beloved, They say that life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

And as the city enveloped me in its unending embrace, I realized that life, in all its chaotic beauty, was not about the destination, but about the journey. And what a journey it would be.