Stories

A Taste Of Life

“Would you like a little taste of life?” 

I looked up from my book, smiled at the woman and reached for a sample. Once I touched it, a shiver went down my spine. I didn’t want to taste it anymore, but I felt as if I couldn’t retract my statement. The woman was staring at me intently, her smile and unblinking stance made it look more like this was poison and she was waiting to watch my soul drain from my body. 

My eyes pleaded to her. I was scared. If I didn’t take this, then I would be considered vain and cruel. I knew I was above human life, but I also knew the stories of valiant soldiers sacrificing themselves for their one true love. Or people inspiring those who felt lost. I knew humans to be good creatures. The bitter taste in my mouth made me start to think I was wrong.

Images of current events on earth started flashing through my head quickly. I don’t know what I thought life would be like. Not this.

Where is the magic? What happened to those tales of knights saving their people? The stories made humans sound like such romantics, but here they are arguing at every moment. People are dying, wars have broken out, none seem content.

Each and every one of them look for happiness, but they are looking in every wrong place, causing them to stumble back once again into a lonely depression. Then some find the happiness they desire but find everything wrong with it until they find a way to push it out of their lives. 

Is this the meaning of human life? To find something to love only to cast it out the moment something doesn’t seem perfect. Is the goal to find perfection? Because there is none as far as the oceans are wide. Nothing can reach perfection to a humanistic standard. They have conflicting ideas of what is perfect, so why is that the goal? They want a sinless, perfect society of people, yet some people have different ideas on what should be considered a sin. So tell me why they cannot reach an understanding when all of them are falling short of their own standards they set for themselves. 

They still tell those beautiful stories that made me think humans were wonderful creatures who were more powerful than other creatures of my caliber believed. Humans even live by these ideals to be the best. 

I watched a boy draw a beautiful picture, yet as he grew older, he did not continue his passion and settled for a job that he did not love. He could have followed his dream, but others were cruel to him and made him believe he was no good at anything. 

Is everyone so focused on themselves that they can’t support anyone else? Or are they too busy focusing on tearing other people down that they can’t do anything that could possibly make them happy? 

The small taste of life I tried leaves me with so many questions, more questions than answers. People spend so much time trying to figure out the meaning of life, yet I am a superior being and I can’t understand the meaning of human life. If life is about what you do and not what you say, the meaning of life is war and pain. 

But as the scene starts to fade away, two older people come to my vision. Their eyes were full of sorrow, they had experienced the pain of life that I had only just seen, yet they still appeared to be happy. There was a sense of joy in both of them, but there was also something hidden which neither would show the other. They were hiding it to protect the other’s happiness. Was that a good thing? 

The visions faded until all I could see was the woman sweetly smiling at me. “I hope you enjoyed.” Was all she said to me before walking away. No answers. No one to ask. I held my book back up on the table and ignored all that I had just seen. What was the point of asking questions there will never be a good answer for?

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