Everything is just a motion.

Is this all life consists of?
Is this all we have on this Earth?
Where did my energy go?
Why am I not happy, and yet feel happy?
What even makes me happy?
What is happiness?
Is peace better than happiness?
Is peace just as fleeting as happiness?
If life consists of just repetitive motions, than death is rightly feared: it is the end of all repition.
It does not solve anything. It just stops one life from repeating itself again and again.
A habit drawn out overtime, evolving and changing but never straying from the social structure we're ingrain to live by.
A routine, based on actions and consequences, captivated by the indescribable want to taste and see adventure, to escape the blank white walls we live in day in and day out.
The epitome of monotony, your sole choice is to either keep going, or turn around and fight the current.
A slow, exciting death until death finally reaches you.

Everything is just a motion.