Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I’ll just find myself standing around doing nothing. Like I’m waiting. Is it for my purpose? Surely not. I don’t believe in purposes.
The universe did not explode into existence because that was its purpose. It merely happened, and everything after it was the beautiful kiss of chaos manifesting in all its infinities. If I catch myself wandering, wondering, worrying like I do I’ll try to jar my thoughts. I’ll pick my cat up and hold him like a baby; I’ll stare out the window and listen for the birds; I’ll think about how I’d feel if the world ended then and there. Altogether when I find myself focused too much on my existence I will simply be.