It's been 92 years. Ninety two years and I have accomplished more than some, less than others and I can't help but think I didn't quite understand the project. I wracked my mind throughout the years trying to grasp the _meaning, the purpose, the point. _Yet here I sit in my brown upholstered recliner, in the home I spent most of my adult years, quilted blanket wrapped around my frail legs and I wonder "Did I ever get this right?". Perhaps the point wasn't about right or wrong after all. Perhaps the point was just to live and to love and to pass each level with a semblance of sanity. I didn't quite get the latter part either. Or, perhaps it was to fulfill the highest of achievements. A famous artist. A brilliant scientist. A scholar. The truth is, as I ponder these questions after completing the majority of my life, I realize it doesn't really matter. Am I welcomed into the afterlife based on awards or prizes? Or will I remain a nothingness in the vast universe. The one thing I have come to realize as I completed each level of my life, I contemplated these questions time and time again and never got the answer. So maybe it's time to stop asking.

Do you ever feel like you aren’t real? Existential dread permeates your pores and embarrassment at simply being a human being sweats out of you. You wake up hot and wet and panicked. Why are you here? How can you get up and make coffee with all the compounded mistakes you’ve made? And then it hits you. You’re here to keep trying to do better each day. You’re here to hopefully help more people than you’ve hurt before you die. You better get started.

I grew up knowing that I will need to fulfill my purpose of existing. Everyone only spoke about how wondeful it is to achieve this purpose. Some people say their purpose is helping people, while others say it‘s to entertain everyone. I‘ve also seen how you can find purpose in art and sport. The motto is always “higher, faster, stronger, better“. All their achievements are connected to standing out and doing something incredible. But what if you‘re not meant to stand out or do something incredible? I can‘t imagine to do something outstanding. I am ordinary. I feel ordinary. If I‘d have a purpose I‘d be special. The rumors say to just do what you love. What if you love many things though? How will you choose? And if you do not love anything? What are your options then? Everyone wants to fulfill their purpose. Nobody knows for sure what happens if you do not fulfill it. Some say you get sent into hell, immediately burned-as in your soul gets burned- so you can’t be reborn or my favorite you just go into the void and stay in a bottom- and topless pit. I‘d rather try and find my purpose than get any of these dumb punishments. Whoever runs this world, maybe even simulation, wants real chaos to break out though….

‘Why am I here?’, Matt asked himself for the umpteenth time. ‘I want to make a difference in the world, I want my life to have a purpose.’ He sat down and looked over the ocean. Sitting at a high rock at the shore, he had a beautiful view over the calming waves. After graduating business school last summer, the question had raised to surface: what’s next? Matt knew for sure that he didn’t want a normal office job. Being locked up from nine to five every day looked like prison to him. So what were the alternatives? Starting his own business or taking on some freelance jobs? He knew he’d love to see more of the world, so doing something that involved traveling would be ideal. Matt grabbed his notebook and started to write down some ideas.

My brother Marcus discovered his purpose when he was 8 years old.

A rogue thunderstorm had sent our new foal into a frenzy, bucking and kicking against the stall, feral and unhinged by the thunder booming across the valley.

Marcus spent the night soothing her, stroking her long mane until she finally fell asleep in the early morning hours. When he reentered our kitchen for breakfast, exhausted and smelling of horse stalls, he proudly declared that his compass had been filled - his purpose to help animals in need discovered and fulfilled.

I was six years old, and in awe. I remember turning to my mother and asking when I would find my purpose. She had laughed and patted me on the arm, reassuring me that the time would come, that she hadn’t found hers until she was nearly 16, that I just had to be patient and keep myself open to new experiences.

For months, I waited with baited breath, sure that my time would come soon. Years eventually passed, and I continued to search for my meaning, my utmost desire, as I grew into a tall, gangly teenager.

Most of my friends found their purpose towards our late teens, on the brink of adulthood. Large parties to celebrate those who’d found theirs became the norm. I attended each and every one, exuberant for them, happily anticipating my own.

The murmurs didn’t begin to start until my mid 20s.

“Taking your sweet time, eh?” My grandfather said, clapping me on my back at Christmas. “Not even a hint yet?”

“Not yet,” I replied, my mouth set in a tight smile. “I’m not too worried,” I added - a blatant lie.

“You’ll find it, sweetie,” my elderly boss told me, a sympathetic, pitying smile on her face. “You’re just a late bloomer is all.”

I nodded tightly, not bothering with any other response.

On the eve of my 30th birthday, I was in a deep depression, drinking my fifth beer alone in the crappy bar down the street from my apartment. There were only two other people in the smoke scented building, apart from the weathered bartender; an elderly man who was drunkenly singing along to a sad old western on the juke box, and an out of place businessman, typing away on a blackberry and drinking a glass of Chardonnay in the corner.

As I signaled the bartender for a refill, I heard the door open and shut behind me. Not bothering to look around, I watched from the corner of my eye as someone slid onto the stool next to mine.

I turned my attention back to my beer, content in my self pitying wallow. Briefly, I wondered if the bartender would allow me to take a beer to go, so that I wouldn’t have to be alone with my thoughts for the short trip from bar to apartment.

“That looks good, I’ll take one too,” comes a soft, musical voice from besides me. I chance a glance at the stranger, and catch a sight of a stunning woman, blonde hair falling in a silky sheet around her head, a light blue cashmere sweater belaying good style and quiet comfort.

She catches me looking and flashes a sweet smile. “I’m glad you’re here, so I don’t need to drink alone.”

My stomach churns, a mixture off too much beer and butterflies from her innocent charm. “That’s exactly why I came; I just got here a bit early to break the bar in.”

She tips her head back and lets out a deep laugh, and in that moment, it clicks. A flash of understanding, of recognition of why I was waiting all these years; my purpose is to make her happy.

Afterward, they lay in the dark. The bedroom window was open. A gentle breeze swept in and brushed across Guy's face. He heard a neighbor practicing a guitar. Angel sighed.

"I want to take you home," she said.

"This is your bed. I think you just did," Guy said, pulling her closer.

"I mean, I want to show you where I'm from. I want you to meet Dad."

Guy thought about this for a long moment. "A trip to your hometown? Sounds like a big step."

"I'm not trying to scare you. I just want you to understand."

"I think we understand each other pretty well."

"You know what I mean."

"Ok then."

"But there is a catch."

"I see this gets better."

"You can't go there unless you have fulfilled your truest earthly desire."

"I think I completed that step a few minutes ago."

Angel poked him in the side. "I'm serious."

"So am I."

She sat up, held her knees, and looked at him. "Have you fulfilled your truest desire?"

"Angel, I think you are my truest desire."

"This is serious. Deep down inside, what do you really want?"

"So tell you what I want, what I really, really want?"

"Stop quoting the Spice Girls."

He grabbed her and pulled her to him. "I guess I want you."

"You're just saying that. What drives you? What pulls you forward?"

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure."

"There must be something you truly want, deep down inside?"

"Maybe an endless bank account?"

"Who wouldn't?"

"Right? Or how about a button in my car that vaporizes nasty people who cut me off?"

"Dark, but more my expertise than yours. I need you to focus. Think about this. What do you want?"

Guy was silent again. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Angel leaned into his back in a hug. "When I was very young, I had something really important to me. And I lost it. It's not like it was lost forever. I just wasn't chosen. I was runner-up. Second best. Just once, I'd like to be the first choice.

"I think we can manage that," Angel said, squeezing him tight.

"Great, people have always been telling me to 'go to Hell,' and I guess now I will."

Scarlett entered the gates of the Midworld to find her true ending. She had guessed dying would be much worse but it was just a long boring line at the DMV. As she got to the front, she was told that she couldn’t enter into any Division here. Her purpose hadn’t been fulfilled. She asked first if her purpose was children but the clerk shook their head. She tried to think of every loose end but nothing seemed right. Maybe she was meant to quit her job? Or she was supposed to quit drinking so much? Maybe it was that she shouldn’t curse in front of children anymore. Scarlett really couldn’t pinpoint one thing that made sense.

I wake up, confused and shaken.

‘ where am I? ‘

I look at my surroundings. A road. A car. No street lights.

‘ Wait? I’m not not dead? ‘

Suddenly I remember the sound of the car horn and people shouting at me to move out of the way. I also remember the horrified look on the face of the woman that was in the car and the indifferent one of the man just before they crashed into me.

I see police and ambulance have arrived. I also see my dead body.

‘ WHATS GOING ON? ‘

Am I dead or alive? I don’t get this.

‘ is anyone else here? ‘

‘ Of course someone else is hear. Your guiding spirit. ‘

I jerk around, shocked. Behind me stands a woman with a kind face, lush out brown hair that falsa delicately on her shoulders. She’s wearing a majestic white gown that shines in the sunlight.

‘ How, what-

‘ Im a guiding spirit. I appear and disappear casually. It’s my thing. ‘

‘ wait, what are you? And am I dead or alive? ‘

‘ Like I said three times, I’m your guiding spirit. I’m supposed to help guide you to the afterlife. Heaven, I hope. But yes, you are dead. But, you also have some unfinished business down here on earth. So, you got it now? ‘

I nod my head. I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about, but at this point she looks annoyed, like the answers to my questions were extremely obvious.

She smiles at me and flicks her hand. A white key suddenly appears in the air. It has an eye at the center, but the eyelid is closed. On ut, there is a clock.

‘ this is your key. If you complete your tasks on earth, the eye will open, and send you to heavens gates. But, see this clock right here? ‘

She rests her finger on the clock on the key.

‘ If the time runs out, you’re going to hell. Forever. So I suggest you get started. ‘

Then, she disappears.

But having spent my childhood with a drunk mother and an absent father, I don’t know where to get started. Because if my mom is my unfinished business, I’m not doing it. Cause she quite literally ruined my life. And not just my childhood. She’s the one that tried killing me in the first place. She was the reason I was running away from home, and I reached the street. She’s the reason why I didn’t check if there were any cars passing because I knew I would die anyways. She’s the reason my body is in a cemetery with no flowers on my tomb and my soul still on that street waiting to figure what to do.

The ancient man sat in his chair, taking long puffs from his pipe. His client was taking longer then expected, but no matter. He had all the time in the world, quite literally. His 12:00 came in, a little worn out but holding herself well as she always did.

“I’m so sorry, what with work and traffic-“

He would let out a hearty chuckle, retorting “Its no issue at all, dear. Come, sit and tell me about your day.”

She would sit, already beginning to explain how her boss was being overbearing and how Stacy was being a “bitchy bimbo” as always. However, he noticed something behind that, a hidden dilemma.

“Milenna, is something bothering you? Something you haven’t told me?”

She froze, the cracks forming in her mask as she fumbled out a response.

“You can tell me anything, anything at all. I am your therapist, after all.” He would lower his pipe, putting it on his coffee table and taking her hand. He would gently squeeze it, giving a warm smile as he insisted

“How about we start from the beginning?”

Mileena would soon be breaking down, anguishing about her battling the grief of her sister’s passing, her having been hit by a drunk driver on the way to work a day after they’re last session. The floodgates had opened, her pouring out how horrible the funeral had been, how her sister wished for her to be a pallbearer, and how she was left a note by her sister about how much she adored and looked up to her. Truly a horrible thing for her to have to experience.

He comforted her, assuring “Death, however peaceful or violent it may be, is just a part of life. I’m sure, nay, I’m certain she passed knowing how much she was loved by you. We shouldn’t fret over the dead, they wouldn’t wish it on us.”

The session went on a while longer, before she was comfortable enough to leave. He would take his pipe, taking a long smoke before finally addressing the figure in the corner.

“Its about that time, eh?”

“Do you feel fufilled?”

“Yes, yes I do.” He would stand, grabbing his cane and fedora. He would trudge up to Death, smiling wholeheartedly into its face as he took its hand, walking off into nothingness.

His funeral was a full-packed one. Friends, family, former clients, coworkers, the whole 9-yards. They spoke on how he was “an all around good man, and how much he bettered the lives of everyone around him”. He felt joy, knowing he had done good toward his fellow man.

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.” John 15:12

Hear me out, please. What if you are not actually you?

What if none of your memories are actually yours? What if they were all just planted in your head, and they never actually happened? What if those “memories” are just a character backstory?

What if “your” actions are pre-written, already a formed script? What if none of your choices are yours, you just think they are?

What if you are not the one sitting behind those eyes? What if you are really in a time and world much different than ours? What if you’re simply connected to this story, like a movie playing out from one characters constant perspective?

What if this “life” is simply entertainment? What if you belong to a whole different world? What if all of this is the work of an ordinary person’s imagination?

So look around. See the flaws in their work. And when you go to sleep tonight, remember you could wake up somewhere entirely different.