I feel the flow of time. It covers me like an ocean, pushes me beyond my existence, beyond the world I observe, beyond my dreams. Once I walked through the graveyard of dreams. I mourned at the tombstones of the lost ones and thought about the bygone times. I remember a boy so sad and lonely; watching the world like an outsider who had fallen off the wagon and left far behind. Yearning for revenge, he lifted himself above consciousness, created a reality of his own, and began to plan for a sad and quiet end for it all. It all was supposed to end in loneliness and misery. Forgotten and alone I sat at the grave of my childhood and wondered how it had come to this.
The story of the past is now told. The end turned out to be very different as originally planned. Something came along the way. So long I waited; nothing happened. Now, there is one week to the day I thought would never come. The future is unwritten. I do not know what is going to happen, but I am very fine with that.
The subject and the object intertwines; I do exist. Why? I am not certain, but that does not matter. The self exists in the world for itself, and the other creates the meaning of the self-for-itself. Thus, everything comes together. Life without a purpose is life with the most important purpose of them all.
The purpose is to make the best out of the solitude and misery of the world. Once you realize you have found a place to be, you know the trick of it. Together or alone; as long as it makes sense. In the end it does not matter. The purpose of the being-there is to realize that there is no purpose. Then one can find the purpose.
I look into her beautiful blue eyes and say: "You give me the reason to live without a purpose. Thus, you are the purpose of my existence."
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