The Meaning of Life

Originally posted on

Before I knew details about the United Nations or anything to do with the rights listed in the Declaration of Human rights, I had an innate desire to help. I knew about wars and all that was going on in the world and I wondered where the keys to solving these issues were.

More importantly, I was starting to move away from the idea that I had something to prove. I didn’t have to be perfect to make it in this world. Eventually, I would conclude that I didn’t need to be or prove anything to anyone. I would exist just as I am. The world would just have to deal with it.

This photo, “How Could I Resist?” is copyright (c) 2014 Michael Coghlan and made available under an Attribution-ShareAlike 2.0 Generic license

This poem was written on August 15th, 2004. I was 14-years-old and a freshman in high school

The Meaning of Life

Is life too boring to live?
Does it seem like you spend all your time in your room
dreaming of leaving,
of truly living?
What is life but many days and nights?
Why do we feel we must make something of ourselves?
Why prove ourselves to the world?
Make the world prove itself to us.
the world is hurt, the world is falling
Polluted and war-torn,
angry and vengeful.
Your father hates their father so you hate them?
Is this life?
Every day we go deeper
The darkness gets greater
People cry “Help! Pull us to the light.”
or is it your that cry?
why shouldn’t you pull them to the light?
Why not our generation?
Why not now?

Wasn’t I a hopeful little teenager? I may have had my own darkness and self-doubt, but I saw the world around me as a place ready for change. I used to think to myself that I would gladly shoulder all the world’s sadness if it meant everyone could be happy.

For a while, I actually thought that was something I could do for the people around me. The atrocity that was my second boyfriend would finally end that dream. It was childish to think that one person could shoulder the burdens of so many people. Equally childish was the idea that such assistance would erase darkness from another’s life. I can help people through their struggles, but I can’t overcome their burdens for them.

Where was 14-year-old TK when 16-year-old TK started that poor excuse for a relationship? This poem proves I knew better.

Reading this poem, is it any surprise that I would grow up to study journalism and human rights in college? I loved writing and I had moved on from being the victim to being someone who wanted to help victims. My back bone was solidifying, as was the path I would take in the future.

Twitter: @tkrv12


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