the question

I ask myself: What am I doing here?

Sometimes it’s in wonder. How could I be so lucky?

Sometimes it’s with shame. How did I let it get this far?

Sometimes it’s in bewilderment. What happened to my life?

Sometimes it’s in sadness. Why haven’t I done more?

It’s how I keep a check on myself. What is my purpose, anyway? I don’t, really. I am an aimless wanderer, for better or worse.

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