Hey. I want to tell you a story.
A story shorter than a short story. It’s about this kid. He’s 7. He wanted to know what his purpose in life was.
He asked me. You are 26, what’s your purpose in life?
I told him I want to help people.
That’s lame! he said.
I don’t know, I told him. He seemed disappointed.
But I thought you were smartm he said.
I am not sure about that kid.
What’s your name, kid?
I don’t think it matters. Name is only an identity and its lack puts people in a state of oblivion.
I am good with names kid. Oblivious until we meet next.
He said why adults have never learnt to ask great questions.
He stared at me and said, so what are you?
I am a 130 pound mass that moves around thanks to the decision taken a billion years ago by a supreme force.
You’re lame. I thought you were smart. That was a stupid answer he said.
Anyway, tell me how I can find my purpose he asked.
I remembered what I learnt in school. Purposeful purposelessness. Some artist coined that term. I don’t know who.
I told him he should understand what he likes and do more of that.
He looked at me disappointed. Shaking his head.
I pity you adults. You guys grow up, but your brains shrink.
I agreed. I think my purpose is to be a kid, he said after staring at a tree for a long time.