Some time ago, a woman with a gun in her hand demanded of me and my companions that we provide good reasons why life is worth living; otherwise she was going to terminate us.
I thought to myself, ‘This is the very question I’ve struggled with for so long and now I am being forced to provide a definitive answer. Do I make up some fancy reason and thus escape with my life? But if I lie, then my life is not really worth pursuing.’
In the distance, I saw my friends getting finished off – obviously their answers weren’t good enough.
It was now my turn. I entered and faced the interrogator. In a voice devoid of any tone, she commanded me to present my case.
“Life is hard, really hard sometimes,” I replied to her, “and a lot of times I don’t want to go on struggling against the unyielding, overpowering forces. Yet I want to continue living. That is all I can say. want to live.”
The interrogator gazed at me with an empty look – a look lacking any human expression – deciding on her answer.
Just as she was about to make her pronouncement, I woke up to life.
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