5 am, awake too early on a Saturday, sitting at my computer, nibbling on last night’s leftover pizza and trying to feel relevant.

I have all this passion, this fire, this spark inside of me that wants to get out but it somehow stays burrowed right beneath my surface, sinking deeper on days, leaving me feeling stalled and stagnant.

I want to do something more with my life…but what? I honestly have no fucking clue. What’s my purpose? I laugh as I ask that because I don’t want to be as trite as to even have one….to be one of those “searchers”, searching for more, searching for a deeper meaning…when most of the time it feels like my only purpose is to just quietly exist, to do my part as a cog in the machine…but how fucking depressing is that?

However clichéd an aspiration it may be, I do feel as if I need to live more…live better. I do not want to lead a prosaic life when the beauty and poetry of something more runs through my veins.

I want to create. I want to live. I want to love. I want to be profound and make a difference. I want to be fascinating and eye-opening and thought provoking.

But a part of me also wants to be unbothered and unencumbered…to settle comfortably into my unambitious laziness and float in blissful, ignorant peace. I want to be uncomplicated and mundane and live the rest of my days in a boring, uneventful, basic routine. I mostly live my life as what passes as normalcy for the masses. But I am anything but content.

Damn this conundrum, this dichotomy of desires, this cognitive dissonance of epic proportions.


Maybe I don’t need to pick a side, maybe I can combine them fluidly into one kaleidoscopic, happy life that is both peaceful and profound.


Maybe I don’t need to touch and impact a million lives, maybe just the lives of those closest to me.

Or maybe just one. Maybe just my own.

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