Once I was sitting in a room and thinking about who I am. It is strange. We are here in this world without knowing
why we are here. Nobody asked me wheter I wanted to be here. I have to be here because something or somebody wanted me to be here. It looks like I got on a train without knowing where the train goes, or whether the train would ever stop. Our life is a journey. We travel without our will. Of course, there is a possibility to stop
travelling. If I get out of the train, that is to say if I kill myself. But I know it very well that it would not solve me my biggest problem, the
question, why I exist. Several minutes passed since I have started writing and I am still travelling unintentionally on an endless way.
The question still remains....