This is day three of my 365 Day Blog Challenge. The prompt for today: “what you think your reason for being here is” Ummm…I don’t know? Or do I?
This challenge may be over before it’s even begun.
I don’t like this question at all.
I have no idea how to respond to it.
[Pauses…puts on thinking cap…walks around chilly unit…too cold to think…puts on thinking jacket…flips on kettle…says FFS…fills kettle…flips kettle on (again)…waits for kettle to boil…brews a mug of green tea…sits on chair…stares at white screen…throws thinking cap across the room because it looks silly…puts fingers to keyboard…removes them…burns tongue on tea…ouch…puts fingers back to keyboard…]
When I was a fetus my reason for being was to become the greatest kick-boxer the world had ever known. Until I realized there was a far better reason to be alive; and that was to be the naughtiest person the world had ever known. A life purpose I succeeded in quite admirably until my mother’s slipper convinced me there was a far better reason to be alive; and that was to be the naughtiest person in the world who never, ever, got caught.
[Pauses…hovers finger over the ‘backspace’ key…stops…thinks about possible meta value of leaving in bad text to demonstrate difficulty in answering question… puts fingers back to keyboard…]
When I was a teenager my reason for being was to be the world’s greatest boyfriend. She was the most beautiful woman in school; a smile that could light up the world, eyes that cast a spell upon all who gazed at them, a bottom so resoundingly excellent it featured in many…
[Pauses…realizes this is supposed to be reality, not fiction…fiction is so much easier…everyone has a purpose in fiction…sips cold tea…ick…puts fingers back to keyboard…]
When I was a teenager my reason for being was to be the world’s greatest Zelda game player. Being the introverted, shy individual that I was I was unable to even speak to the most beautiful girl in school, let alone fulfill my fantasy of kissing those delicious looking lips. With my family in disarray over my sister’s illness I realized that focusing on myself was selfish and I needed to do all I could to help those around me. In the times I couldn’t cope I stuck to this credence and tried to cope alone, instead, losing myself to worlds of fiction and self-harm.
[Pauses…too many bad memories…but…smiles…puts fingers back to keyboard…]
Through those lost, lonely formative years I put others first. As I did through my first job, and the period I spent backpacking. When I look back on those years I see myself roaming from town to country hamlet to seething metropolis to quaint campsite like the Littlest Hobo helping whomever and however I could.
If someone needed a shoulder to cry on, mine was there. If someone needed some food, I opened my satchel. If someone needed some spare change, I dug deep. If someone needed a punching bag, I grit my teeth and let them unleash.
No matter what I wanted, who I wanted, where I wanted, how I wanted as long as I put others first I would be accomplishing what I wanted most in the world; to put others first.
That is my reason for being; to help others.
[Pauses…the harmonious chords of ‘Get Me Through December’ fill my mind…followed by ‘Weak in the Knees’…and then, as always, the tears flow…]
Ay, there’s the rub.
For my entire life I’ve thought my reason for being was to be there for others; to be a brilliant friend, a supportive partner, a loving father.
To rise above selfishness and do all I could to make the world a better place for others. But I failed.
For every time I’ve given my blanket to a homeless person, there’s Rachel. For every time I’ve helped others find housing, there’s Kathy. For every time my shoulder has absorbed the tears of others, there’s Grace. For every time I’ve sacrificed the things I loved, there’s Stephanie.
[Pauses…walks outside to have a cigarette…returns…puts fingers back to keyboard…]
I wish this post was different.
I wish I’d made more of an effort to succeed then it could have been the shortest post in the world. A simple:
But instead it is just a rambling succession of failed friendships, lost souls and self-made isolation. My ex used to tell me I was like a cancer; a hideous disease that sucked the happiness from all I encountered. Rather than being someone who brought hope to the lives of others, I filled their lives with pain and misery. And she made me believe it.
[Pauses…emotional abuse sucks…puts fingers back to keyboard…]
My reason for being here is to help others. It’s just I’ve failed spectacularly.
But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t keep trying.
Random articles WordPress suggested that I enjoyed, so you may too…
- 11 Benefits of Green Tea That You Didn’t Know About (lifehack.org)
- The M Word (tellie689.wordpress.com)
- Sit And Stare, Productively (lilithsaintcrow.com)
- #17 Thinking (1000awesomethings.com)
- Great Foreplay Makes the Wait Worthwhile (bluefingersbrassknuckles.wordpress.com)
- Review: Logitech Ultrathin Keyboard Cover for iPad makes the right compromises (macworld.com)