Pointless

Sometimes I wonder what my purpose in life is. Whether it's a tiny one. Whether it means anything. Whether I will ever find that out. Or if I'm to realise it on my own, whether I will realise it by the time I'm to die.

The future looks so... bleargh. Bleak. Empty.

I have nothing to look forward to.

I have nothing to do with my life that I would consider worthwhile.

I will grow up and make no difference to the world. Like a shadow on a wall.

And I go by day in day out merely tolerating whatever.

Until I find my porpoise, I feel my life means nothing to me.

Pointless.