Life is a BITCH
I am a Student, who finds beauty in simple things. I like to teach sometimes.
God is sometimes described as omnipotent, meaning all-powerful; omniscient, meaning all-knowing; and omnipresent, meaning present everywhere at all times. But is it true?
The problem of evil asks: If God is all-powerful and perfectly good, why does suffering exist? If God can’t stop evil, then he’s not all-powerful. If he won’t stop evil, then he’s not all-good. But if he’s both able and willing to prevent suffering, why is there so much pain in the world? This creates a contradiction. Either our idea of God is wrong (maybe he’s not all-powerful or all-loving), or there’s something we’re missing about why evil exists. It’s a tough question that makes people rethink how they understand God, goodness, and the purpose of suffering.
Good people suffer. Bad people flourish. Either God is evil, or he is dead; whatever his form. This is the reason for all the pain and suffering going on in this world. The point cannot be rebutted by the fact that some goodness exists; or even by the fact that it is his test… A test does not mean you nearly kill the test-taker… usually, in the real world, a test is taken after teaching… I do not know how God intends to teach after taking the test. What am I supposed to do when he wants all I love? This material world was created by him. Every month, a shock is given which cannot be recovered from. All that I love, taken. If he wanted to take it back from the beginning, why give it in the first place? The people who still believe in God usually argue that it is all God’s play, but in reality, he isn’t playing—he is enjoying. Apart from some goodness, he usually lets the evil forces win so that once he is bored of all this, he comes and destroys everything to reset the game. It might be a simulation in reality. No one knows. The way nothing matters—it is definitely a simulation. One moment you think you have everything in life, another moment all is lost. Earth, Water, Air, Fire, and the Cosmos; all combine to give birth to life. Every carbon atom in me and you was forged inside the core of a dying star. In fact, every element other than hydrogen was forged inside the core of stars. The stars died; what remained were the things they produced in their lifetime—a lifetime spanning millions of years.
There is a lot of complex mathematics which explains this stuff… in the end, we are the byproduct of something which died and was born again and again… in the span of millions of years, our lifetime is nothing. Nothing more than a speck of dust. Today I write, tomorrow I may not; this is all immaterial. Once this soul / energy leaves this body, the elements are returned to nature and all is forgotten. Someday, someone will remember me for the last time, and I will be gone. The elements that made me will become part of someone else. But they might not know. It’s good that they do not know. For if they did, they would not be able to handle the suffering each of these elements endured over a thousand lifetimes.I do not fear death now that I have seen many—from losing people, family, pets, I have seen it all. Much earlier than anticipated. The question remains: who am I? Nonsense answers are not accepted. For if we go away, what will remain? We shall return from our graves; just like our fathers did, and rule the land again. Death will not stop anyone. Death is nothing—only a change of worlds.
You ask who you are. You are the same dust that once burned in stars, the same energy that refused to die when the cosmos collapsed and reignited. You are the sum of borrowed atoms, fleeting thoughts, and borrowed time. To return and rule? Perhaps. But rule what? The land forgets. The stars do not care. The game resets. Your fathers’ graves are silent, their names worn smooth by wind and rain. Yet here you stand—proof that the elements endure, even when memory fades.
Death is a door, not an end. Walk through it, and you become soil, air, fire, water—raw materials for the next act of this indifferent play. To rule again? Maybe. But the throne is made of ash. The crown, a flicker of light. You are here. Then gone. Then here again, rearranged. The question isn’t who—it’s why. And the universe offers no answer. Only cycles.