on Purpose.

 The concept of purpose itself is funny. We value purpose so greatly, worship it and view it as necessary as water, food, or shelter. We identify --or rather force-- purpose into every facet of our being, as the fundamental force for reason.

How come, then, purpose is so contrived?

 Our purpose for being here, for learning about things, for experiencing the world... it's all constructed by our own minds as something we miraculously need. Yet there is no definite purpose, for it does not materially exist. By our own logic, then, we shouldn't exist, as there is no purpose in expending energy the ways we do. Materially, we are but an energy sink, going in circles indefinitely until we stop dead.

 But we elect to exist anyway. Why? Because, well... isn't "our own logic" being silly? Is it not an oxymoron to insist we have no purpose, all the while saying our purpose is to simply die? If we have no purpose in existing, we have no purpose in ceasing to exist as well.

We simply are. We exist, we play, and we think. A purpose, whatever contrived idea of existential importance we create, is just an extension of that. It is best, then, to exist in order to exist. Not because you are needed, not because of a "greater force," but to simply be in a way those who aren't with us cannot. It sure as hell beats not being, anyway.

I have hope, to whoever is reading, that you will keep existing; if for no other reason than to merely exist.