How to Be a Bird

I stared off into the distance, wondering yet again what my purpose was.

What is the point of life?

Why do we do all the things we do?

What is the use of living?

These thoughts constantly tug at my brain, making me think maybe I don't have a purpose. Maybe it'd be better if I was gone?

Nothing lasts forever.

Everything eventually fades, everything eventually dies.

So why not die now?

I'm not making a difference.

I have no purpose.

No matter what I do, it won't make an impact.

I feel like I'm floundering in life and it's all hopeless.

I hear the voices again.

They whisper, “Give up.”

If I burned every shred of my existence and walked away, who would remember me?

Who would care?

I could leave, and the world wouldn't shed a tear for my life.

But today as I stared through the glass window panes, shaking, anxious, I saw birds.

And I thought about them.

I thought about the birds and wondered what it'd be like to be a bird.

I know a lot of people often think about that, but I truly pondered the existence of fowl life.

I looked up, and wonder was flooding my galaxy of a brain.

Birds don't question their existence, ask what their purpose is.

Because they know without knowing.

They eat, sleep, fly, mate, reproduce, migrate, build a family.

Not for one second, for one blink, do those birds contemplate their doings.

They just be.

They are birds and they are wondrous creatures.

Full of beauty, grace, mystery, peace.

They perch on trees and tend to their young day to day as they were born to do because it is what they were born to do.

No question.

So why do I question my existence?

But the birds can fly?

How to be a bird?

I wonder…