The question after the meaning of life is not easy to answer and maybe it is too complex to discuss it here, but I constantly wonder what will be in the future. We are all supposed to grow old, but this can´t be everything, right?                                    A boy named Charlie said: “We are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we´ll never know most of them. But even if we don´t have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things.”[1] But which things we should choose for our way in a happy and lovely life? What does it mean in general? A life without failings and hurt? From my point of view, this is not even possible. Aren't the things that almost break us, that make us suffer, the things that make us stronger and turn us into the person who we'll be once? And would this statement not assume an end, that one day we would wake up and everything is done, we are an ingenious model of the ´perfect´ human being? Eventually this would even mean that at this point we have nothing to make way to and no more experiences to gain. For my part I don´t want to get to this. And at the same time, I´m a little bit afraid of all the things I´ll get through, trying to make my time on earth worth living. Are we all running after a certain moment or goal, because we are scared of what would happen if we had no course to hold on to? I think when you are as young as I am, you never really stop thinking about what in the world you are doing with your life. You hope your grades will be good enough to pass and wonder how to get your parents believe you´ll well-behave at the next party. Partially there is not much time for future visions of ourselves. But sometimes I must think about it. Ten years ago, this thought was certainly even more rare than now, since I´m seventeen and this time next year I'll already be of age. Questions like What do you want to study? Abroad or rather here. In this case here doesn´t mean Magdeburg. Do you want to make the ABI or the IB? There are so many opportunities, so many chances we could take, if we were good, curious and brave enough. Sometimes I wonder, if all these things weren't easier if everything was based on fate, we can´t affect. But we can´t let other people or even fate decide what we are going to do. We must take responsibility for ourselves.  What does that mean, though? Does it make us better people, when we fulfil the expectations of the people around us, to be sure we are doing the right things, going the right way, probably not for us, but for them. I mean, where is the point of it? A wise man told me, that we are the ones to blame, what´ll happen with our lives. That the world basically is ours but we must use our chance, we must fight and rebel against conformity, to change what we hate and keep what we love. In my opinion it is okay to be a little bit afraid, but we must use our time and our gifts and make decisions nevertheless. Because being afraid of something doesn´t mean to be weak or even worthless or less strong than the others. We fear things because we value them. We fear losing people because we love them. We fear dying because we value being alive. I don´t wish not to fear anything. All that would mean is that you didn´t feel anything and this is not true. Maybe it isn´t the best way to push ourselves to the limits, but to make one step after the other. To overcome an obstacle with calmness and wit, instead of running against walls with our heads down and our eyes closed. It may take longer but I believe it is worth it. I wish for me to fight for the good, to be a voice that calls it out in others, that acknowledges their value, their beauty, even when they have been told or treated as though worth is the last thing they possess. See their kindness and treat them with so much love and fondness they won´t be able to forget it. We should remind ourselves that every moment will just be another story someday and that the bad and decayed moments aren´t the ones we are fighting for, but the fantastic, breath-taking moments, when you feel so alive that it hurts you. And maybe that is enough.