Is life all it's really cracked up to be?

Does it really have so much meaning?

Why does it seem as though it's just wasting away,without a care in the world , without a trace?

Does everyone feel this way this strongly?

The only reason I'm here is because of him. 

He convinced me to stay on this mortal plain. 

Because of him I still question.

Because of him I still live. 

And because of him I still love with a beating heart.