There is no purpose in life except that which we ascribe to it in any given moment of observation. One moment your purpose could be to find your way to your next meal, the next it could be to gaze into the eyes of your beloved one more time. Should you ever find your life without meaning, don’t panic! Simply remember that this is ok – you’re experiencing a moment of clarity. Whether you live or die at any given point of time means nothing in the long run. Make of that what you will but keep in mind that your purpose is what you make it and you have the unique opportunity to consciously choose your next purpose because of your current lack of meaning.
An important part of having a purpose which is often overlooked is that you don’t need to have a purpose. If you so choose you can reject purpose in life and embrace the lack of meaning. If you have nothing to keep you going and don’t want something then you shouldn’t feel pressure to give yourself a reason. Instead, try to evaluate why it is that you don’t want one and look at whether you already have a hidden purpose. You may be surprised at what you find. If you find nothing then you might not need a purpose in this moment.
For the uninitiated, packet loss is a term used in computer networking to refer to the loss of data packets when communicating between two computer systems or networks. There are some ways in which packet loss can be considered analogous to the way in which I struggle in life.
When writing I know the exact shape that the letters should take, I know exactly how my body should move in order to transfer ink to paper in such a manner to have the words take perfect form, yet I find myself unable to scrawl them down in a commonly legible manner. My fingertips miss the finer details of the motions and as a result the words become sloppy and unrecogniseable to those who have not taken time to decipher my script in the past.
An explanation of my thoughts and understanding may rest firmly in my mind in perfect form, yet my mouth betrays me. I become unable to send the words from consciousness to voice, unable even to express their sentiment.
For the last few years I’ve held off my suicidal urges by reminding myself how death effects those around it, I wouldn’t hurt my friends and family like that while alive so what gives me the right to do it by dying? At least if I were to hurt them like that while alive I could take action to ease the suffering it would cause.
The thing with hearing the same moral argument over and over again is that it eventually becomes banal and meaningless. It’s now something I tell people to help them understand, and when I am gone perhaps they will realise that I put all I could into staying here for them.
I’m sorry, but I’m not strong enough to remain here indefinitely, even for them. There are a few prior commitments I must fulfil then I’ll quietly step out into the night and embrace the eternal darkness.
I don’t know what it is but something feels different. It’s like a presence has been lifted and it took some of the deeper scars of my past with it. The fresh ones are still here and so are most of the old ones, but a few of the more sinister wounds have healed.
It almost feels peaceful in my head, like I can just stay in this moment and ride the wave of serenity. But I know where that wave will lead me. The jagged rocks below the surface will break it into a violent and choppy broil which will cast me down onto the cruel and twisted island that my mind calls home, just as it has countless times before. This short reprieve won’t go unappreciated though; I’ll make the most of it and enjoy myself as much as I can before the storm returns bringing the old clouds with it.
Last night I prayed to a god I don’t believe in. I prayed for the pain the ease up for just a moment. I prayed for the mental anguish to fade away. I prayed for the voices to stop and their noise to be obscured into nothing but a memory. I prayed for the icy blood to stop pumping through my veins. I prayed for her to be better because that’s what she deserves. I prayed for this to be the last bottle she had to throw. I put my heart into an idea which to me feels like nothing but a way for people to control others because I have nothing left to try. It was a last minute chance like a dying dog getting sudden energy to chase a stick one last time.
I woke up in my room. Except it’s not my room, it’s longer and has two exits rather than one, but I wouldnt notice this till later. Looking around, I saw that each corner had a pile of sharp and twisted pieces of broken memories discarded like trash. Each piece threatened to topple the pile and spill warped versions of the past across the room.
I couldn’t stay there, I had to leave. So I walked out of my door and into the hallway. There I saw that my neighbours door was open which is very strange so I walked in to check that everything was ok. I stood in her doorway for a moment staring blankly, still trying to make my eyes adjust to the lighting in the hallway. That’s when I realised two things; I had just walked into a strangers residence unannounced, and I hadn’t gotten dressed before leaving my flat. Hurriedly I backed out of there and went back into my own place.
The heavy door slammed behind me and sent a shockwave through the room, disrupting the tenuous balance that was keeping those broken memories stacked. Shards flew everywhere, careening off in all directions. It’s a miracle I didn’t get impaled but any that came towards me seemed to suddenly lose momentum and drop to the ground.
While picking up the pieces I began to notice that some of them could fit together to make something whole and far less sinister than they had seemed before, so I started piecing them all together. When I was done I realised that even though they were whole they were still warped and cracked, they could never be what they were supposed to be.
Then I woke up.
Today I did nothing. I just sat in my chair staring at the desktop screen of my laptop trying to think of something to do but finding no inspiration. I feel empty, like all desire and drive is gone. I miss having purpose and wanting to do things, but now everything seems pointless. I can’t help but think about how meaningless everything is; we are not capable of meaningful actions because anything we do will be forgotten. We live and we consume then we die. Our existence doesn’t span more than a few moments in the grand scheme of things so why does it matter? Soon the world will be consumed by the sun exploding as it dies and there will be no record of human existence other than a few pieces of debris in space and the odd radio signal yet to die off. It’s strange how my mind feels both empty and bursting at the seams at the same time, but in some way it feels like that’s how things should be.