What is purpose? Most of have had or currently have purpose; at least we thought we did. The Oxford dictionary defines purpose as “the reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists.” I translate created to mean “born to be…”. In my opinion, created to be and are in existence are the true meanings of purpose. For example, Abraham Lincoln was born to legally end slavery. Did he not immediately get assassinated? People are born and die as the universe sees fit. That my friends is a scary thought.
In my younger years, I had no purpose, nor did I give a shit. Without spouting out a long story, I got pregnant, had a baby. It was then I knew my purpose. I devoted myself to him like no other. There I was holding unconditional love in my arms. I swore off so much for twenty years. Then I wake up one day and realized my purpose was over. I did my job as a parent. I waited for the ax to fall and it did not. Thoughts of purpose have been overwhelming my mind. But to my dismay, I crashed my car in a big way. No one should have walked away from that crash. So why the fuck am I here? The question is killing my brain. I really have no need to get out of bed, unless you count bathroom breaks and feeding my fish Gilbert VI.
I always thought I was meant to leave my mark on the global stage. When I was eight or nine I wanted to be a congressional lawyer. I wanted to make change. Before I could mature, the world turned to shit. I mean the fucking world is on fire. It is so close you can fell it. The planet is doomed, why should I have purpose?
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