After an hour or two, the bell rang. Alex felt the sound coming from all directions, enveloping him completely. He wondered how that could be possible. Shouldn't the sound come from a single direction, from where the bell actually rang?
Alex thought the entire academy structure made little sense, especially the way the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, with each letter of the alphabet marking fifty classrooms, numbered from one to fifty. He pushed these thoughts aside when he saw the invigilator, broad-shouldered and imposing, vanish the instant the bell rang. Suddenly, there was a paper and a pen on his desk in front of him.
The invigilator returned to his standing position, his hair still perfectly in place. Alex looked around and saw that many students wore expressions of astonishment, jaws slightly agape, their heads darting frantically between the papers on their desks and the invigilator, who stood as if nothing had happened. The invigilator had blurred just after the bell rang, placing papers on every desk and returning to his post in what felt like a fraction of a second. Alex felt that the man before him must be incredibly powerful, or perhaps he himself was simply, pitifully weak.
Alex shook his head and shoved all his thoughts aside as he gazed down at the paper. He lifted it, finding multiple sheets bound together by thread. A single question was written at the top of the front page, with a space above it for his name.
Alex glanced around and saw all the other examinees rifling through the pages, searching for additional questions. There were none.
One examinee raised his hand. The invigilator turned to him. "Sir, there is only one question. Did we get the wrong sheet?"
"You all have the correct answer sheets. From now on, no more questions—and no cheating." The invigilator crossed his arms.
Alex stared at the question plastered across the page in bold letters.
What is the Purpose of Life? Write in your own words.
Beside the sheet lay a pen. He grabbed it and sat in thought for a while, searching for the right way to answer a question that seemed to punch him straight in the gut.
Alex wrote his name first at the top of the sheet, beside the word 'Name:', and then began to write.
I fundamentally believe—and agree with the idea—that there is no single purpose in life. There cannot be one thing that distinctly determines the reason for being alive, nor one reason to keep living. Some might say our purpose is to enjoy life and to be happy. But I reject this notion. To say 'enjoy life' is like tossing a pebble into a river and expecting it to float. There is no such thing as simply enjoying and being happy in life. No one has the same life, and no one can truly be happy for their entire existence. There are always moments of happiness, sadness, and loss.
I might have believed that life had a purpose and that we must strive toward it, but what about death? Death renders every effort meaningless; it makes everything about life seem pointless. Whether one lives surrounded by the riches of the world like a king or struggles in the slums, drinking dirty water like a beggar, death makes them equal. Everything is reduced to the same thin line. Their joy and sadness dissolve with death. All that remains are their legacies, which, after a few decades or centuries, no one will remember.
So what exactly is the purpose of life? I do not know the answer. But I think that living life in all its glory and lowliness, while maintaining the constant reminder that 'this too shall pass,' is the purpose I have chosen. This may not match the answers of others, and I wholeheartedly agree that the purpose of every being can be different. We have the power to decide our own purpose, as long as we are alive and moving forward—because death will make us all the same: lifeless bodies.
I know life is full of magic, and I will always contend that one should keep chasing miracles, because who knows when the heavens might bless you with gifts. But even if the heavens do not, I believe your effort and your journey make your life purposeful. We are creatures of desire, but life will throw everything at us—it might grant us what we have always wanted and take away what we always dreaded losing. Yet to remain with the flow of life and continue moving forward is, I believe, the purpose of life.
Alex read his lines several times, wondering if he could add anything more, but decided this was the best he could write. The question had struck directly at his heartstrings. There had been times he thought life was not worth living after struggling so hard to level up, but he wanted to live—and he would live in all of life's glory and lowliness. He would continue until death took him away from his struggles, because he believed that this pain, too, would pass.
When? That was simply a matter of waiting and hoping it would come soon. But until then, he would struggle on and do his best to level up.
Alex was so immersed that he had forgotten about everyone else. The other examinees looked tense in their seats—some scribbled furiously, crossing out lines only to write and cross them out again. Some had their heads resting on their desks, scratching their heads as they tried to think of an answer.
Alex glanced at his answer one last time before raising his hand. The invigilator arched his brows. "Done?"
Alex nodded, rose from his desk, and handed the answer sheet to the invigilator, who seemed to analyze the single-page response before quickly flipping through the rest of the pages. He looked momentarily confused to find the other pages blank, but masked it well, returning to his impassive expression and gesturing toward the door.
Alex took the cue and left the class. He found the hallway empty; no one else had exited yet. He wondered if he was the first to finish the written exam.
***
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