I write. Why? Many people do things we don’t know the reason behind it. We don’t know why people see different things in the clouds. We don’t know why butterflies are more appealing to some than to others. We don’t know why people would rather sleep on the ground wrapped in blankets and pillows than on the comforts of a warm bed. We don’t know why people do many things, so why do we always find ourselves asking the same exact question? “Why?”
Why? We want to know. We want to know the unknown. Why things happen the way they do. Whether we can fix the unfixable and the untouchable. What we are capable of and where our limits lay. Where the horizon meets the ocean and if one of those stars can replace the sun. The question is “Why?” and the answer is “We want to know the unknown.”
Everything has been the unknown at one point. We didn’t always have what we do. We didn’t know the existence of cells and microorganisms until we found them. We didn’t know light could be controlled with a flick of a switch. We didn’t always know how to predict the weather, whether it would be absolutely correct or not. Everything we have around us was once unknown and was once found.
Again. The question is “Why?” and the answer is the same “We want to know the unknown.” Maybe it can do us better, like all the hundreds of other things we have discovered.