Purposefulness

I overheard a stranger's conversation. He was discussing the purpose of life with his mobile, or with whomever was at the other end of it.

Him and his mobile were idealists.

I felt like smacking them with the book I was reading.

Idealists are highly impractical. They subscribe to a vision of the world as it should be, rather than as it is. It's easy to be a good idealist. You can never fail, for your beliefs will never be trialed by reality.

I'm not sure what I should be classed as. I don't think there's ANY purpose to life. And it puzzles me why people deem such a perspective to be pessimistic. I think it's incredibly liberating. It means you only really have a duty to yourself and even that's debatable. The choice is entirely up to you.

I choose to see life as a game. Nothing too serious.

I've been given two pieces of a puzzle: the world as I see it, and myself. The contours of either piece exist of millions of ragged edges. It's gonna take me a while to figure out how they fit together. I choose to spend my days tracing the edges. To familiarise myself with both givens. And if one day I find they are bits of a different puzzle altogether, I will try and create myself a context. I will create a context around the piece that is me, work my way around my rougher edges, until by some sort of osmosis, the contextual boundaries blur and the picture turns into focus.

No purpose. Only opportunity.