What is the purpose of my existence?
I’ve been thinking about this whole life thing a lot recently. Not in a suicidal way; I like living. I just kinda don’t get it.
Do you ever get the whole ‘why am I doing this’ thought go through your head? Yeah? Well, I get it a lot. Probably too much.
I touched on this in my reflection on Friday, but I don’t really understand the purpose of my existence yet, and I don’t really know who I am yet either. Hence the periods of conflicting erraticism. I’m too heavily influenced by society and by my perceived expectations of what my existence should contain – in terms of social normalcies – to really know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life, or how I should act.
The way I look at life, its merely a plethora of fleeting moments. To me, change is the only real constant. Those who embrace it develop much further than those who resist it. Nothing lasts forever, and therefore, nothing is ever really complete; in my world anyway.
What is the point of celebrating something if it is merely part of a bigger, never complete picture?
Pieces in a jigsaw puzzle perhaps.
On their own, fairly meaningless, but as part of the bigger picture, fundamentally important.
But what is my bigger picture?
This is my struggle. I need to know what it is now before I start collecting the pieces and finding the value in them.
Call me cynical, but perhaps I’ve been dealt a really confusing hand. I continually search for understanding in everything I do when perhaps there simply isn’t any. I’d much rather live without this deep seated curiosity but I can’t seem to escape its grasp.
I’m worried I will never find value until my life has a meaning.