No Point to Exist

by John
(United States)

I see no point to exist. This human drive is lost upon me. I have no urge to produce offspring and watch them grow and mature. My life here is only kept in check by those who know me. I am quickly learning that it may not always be enough. Whoever people think that I am is not what I am. I am a shell, a constantly absorbing exterior, a personality sponge. I derive my humor, my joy, my thrill, from others and their ideas of the world. I live my life drifting from story to story, in the form of movie, tv, video game, book, even other people's problems. I live my life through them but not as myself. As a casual observer, the joys I have are irrelevant. Someone once told me the purpose of life is to live. That seems a rather trivial point to something that I've grown up to believe should be all the more. I wish I could have a dream. I wish that I could have some goals. These things are again completely not what I am. There will be no great event in my life. There will be nothing that will force me to want something more out of life than a way to absorb things faster or better. My knowledge sponge, my pointless self. I have no friends that know me for what I am. Some people have come close, and I am an expert at producing a clean shiny exemplary life. I appear to be happy. I have loved once. Through someone else I found that I could focus all I was into them. And it was the single greatest distraction I've ever enjoyed. It was, however, just that; a distraction from what I know is true. I am without. I dream of letting go, falling from the sky and feeling the rush of wind at terminal velocity. To experience a quiet in my head, a cessation to the constant drone of quotes and fodder as I drift in to nothingness would be the fitting end to this story no one wants to read.