What does one really know about themself as a person? How can human possibley concieve a definant in his life when he is not sure of anything? People go through life with hope, passion, joy, a future desire, faith, and love... yet what makes it all worth while? Why do we push on, why drudge through pain, endure heartbreak, and suffer a hundred torments to get to a idealization thats seems so far away? A universal truth that we all share no matter fatih, race, enthicity or culture. Love is that truth. The ideal that another of a mortal shell can create a wholeness, something that is unexplainable, beyond means of articulation... besides it after all need none it needs none, a perfection that is formed when two inperfect entities merge to form fluidic harmony; Beyond the confines of pain, and doubt. There is no guilt in this...feeling, it is only a absolute and has been the focus of countless individuals throughout history. But why do we feel this? I have pondered this question for years, and i can on fall into more thought, because no answer of this question can be understood until i have found love. Only when it is found, is its questions answered. It just seems so paradoxl... why... people go through life growing up with their parents forcing them through schooling, craming all the knowledge they can into their developing intellects. Then the child is no longer a child, it is a adult. That adult then moves on to find a cycle of comfort that it feels it can repeat happily for the rest of its years. Then it reproduces,the focus quickly changes for the adult from living for self, to making the offspring better than the parent, and thus the cycle repeats. Such a dry aspect of humanity, is this point of view, giving the notion of bland pointless existance. I know this is a partial truth, it is what i see as i walk, but i dare not except it. To except something as a definate is to admit nothing is simply, but what it seems, and thus hope for greater understanding is lost. Most try to see the world through the eyes of the optimist, embracing the idea of the "goods" of people; ignoring the bad and the true roots of what we are. yet Greed sets the foundation of our society, and is the root of all our evil. Is this what you ment god, by freewill? To create a life, that is our everything, yet our own inhibit. Is to lose free will is it to step towards perfection? Is that what we really want? Humans naturally want a sense of control a reason, a path, a light of guidance, to know in the corner of their mind that somethings are already predetermined. Religion fills this need, for it is the organization of these ideals, a predterminate to our beginning and our end. It sets rules, that promote high ethics and good morals that are benefical and set us in a place of comfort. After all what could be more confiding the sense of a purpose, a path, rules, a beginning, and a end that leads to another beginning of a different nature. I am honest when i say i'm not religous...i cant be, yet i dont condem the ones who are. Religion is set on a foundation of ideals. Ideals of a human nature, i know that is unescapable...but how can i devote myslef to something that condones only one simplistic view point of fasle secuirity and a hopefulness of perfection, when it seems unplaisable that perfection can possibly be derieved from a imperfect source. That are that are these organized ideals... I understand this, yet tormented be such irrelevant and superficial things as my thoughts, of inadiquicy, issues of conformity, peer pressure, things that are almost impossibly distant to obtain. Yet none of this explains why we feel love. I have only came to a conclusion that... honestly i have no idea. How can one explain something that defies science, laws of nature and confounds the intellects of this world. Something that is chemically no different than eating large quanities of chocolate, but so many of the past have devoted their lives to writing about it. How so many have died for another, or given up everything to hold on to just a bit of that love they feel. How can we hope to explain why a starving artist would rather buy paint, instead of food to complete a creation. Thus a void is to be fulfilled... a need that is so instinctive that no needs of the flesh can compare to it in magnitude of want. All i know being of 17 years is that its here in me, in my soul, in my heart, within some shred of what i can truly know is myself, and that one day i will know it to be real, and will never think of these such things, because i will have no need for questions,or enigmatic pondrings that only sofficate...i will understand...