You

I was pondering what it truly means to be alive and what exactly is the reason for living. It came down to breathing. That is what it means to live; to breathe. I had read books where they described being alive as being in love or doing something risky. I know that is false. You are born, you breathe, you live, and you die. That is life.

The reason for living is a a strange concept; I knew it couldn't be just be breathing, and this plagued my mind for a lot longer. I sprawled ideas in my notebook when I really should have been working on my French assignment. What is the reason for living? Is it to gather knowledge? Is it to make friends? To have fun? I had no idea and I began to hate this question.

The otherness then said that the main reason for living is finding happiness.