Finding purpose

I find repeatedly find myself in a situation where I begin to hate life. Not life in itself, but the world and how it works. I resent the people, their opinions, idiosyncrasies and priorities. I am thrown aback by what matters to them, how they go about their daily lives. And I continually ask myself the same question; “what motivates them?” I really want to know.
I really want to know how it happens, that a baby is born, lives for twenty eight days as a neonate, sent to kindergarten as an infant, nursery and primary school as a child, becomes an adolescent in secondary school. Gets into the university, becomes an adult. He gets out of the university only to realise that his country had no plans for him whatsoever, he gets thrown into the labour market, searching for his daily bread and this he’d do till his death.
In the meantime, while searching for his daily bread, he searches for other things, friendship, that he may find company to drink beer and watch soccer on weekends, he searches for love that he might relieve himself of daily stress. To make matters worse, he now engages in an endless race in which he begins to compete with his circle of soccer watchers in a game of who has the most bread. This you’d notice in his more than occasional jabbering about this and that, which he acquired. His colleagues, join him by jabbering about theirs and there you have it, the bar has only gone higher.
Next we hear that his desire to relieve himself of stress has not only failed at relieving stress, but has made matters worse. This you’d see when “iyawo” returns from the maternity ward with “Junior” in her arms. Little does junior know that he has only come as an input into vicious cycle of which he was a by product. If only he knew, he’d have stayed back and refused to be expelled through the birth canal. Well thank goodness he did not know, lest the world be full of lonely, fat, desperate, highly irritable women.


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