When presented with $\lim_{x\to a}f(x) = L$, we are usually taught to intuitively think of $x$ approaching the value $a$ from both sides, with $f(x)$ getting closer and closer to the value $L$. For example, to guess the value of $\lim_{x\to 3}(x+3)$, we plug in $2.9$, $2.999999$, or $3.01$, $3.00000001$, and see what happens. Or we draw a graph. This was in high school calculus.
However, when rigorously proving that a limit exists, the notion of 'getting closer and closer to a value' is replaced with $\epsilon$-$\delta$ language. Intuitively, given $\epsilon>0$, no matter how small your 'strip' is around $L$, if I can always find a corresponding strip which ensures that the values of $f(x)$ will be within the strip around $L$, then I've proven that the limit exists.
The rigorous definition requires that $\epsilon$ be given first. This makes sense. But if we challenge someone with $\delta$, and if our opponent fails to provide an $\epsilon$ so that $0<|x-a|<\delta$, wouldn't that prove that the limit doesn't exist? Why can't limits be defined this way instead of the other way round? I think this is more natural, because in the intuitive definition, we vary $x$ and observe what happens to $f(x)$. Suddenly, in the rigorous definition, we do the reverse: Pick values around $L$ and observe whether there are $x$'s which map to those values.
What is wrong with my reasoning?