59 - The Bubble Where I Still Breathe

I have no goals. 

Or at least, none that reach beyond the walls of work.

I can’t seem to find purpose in life,

and I think that’s what feeds this hollow ache.

Sure, I have goals at work. 

Run a successful business. 

Serve every customer with all my heart. 

Offer a hand to those in need without asking for anything in return. 

And yes, that’s fulfilling. 

Some would call it meaning. 

Some would say it’s enough.

But it only exists inside that little bubble 

the one called work, the one demanded by society, 

the one that makes me part of a community. 

Inside it, I live. 

Outside it, I die.

Because once I step out, 

I can’t find it. I’m lost. 

Nothing drives me. 

No reason to move, 

no purpose to hold. 

Just survival, 

waiting until I can step back into the bubble again.

I don’t crave wealth. 

I don’t chase possessions. 

Money is only a means to someone else’s goals, not mine. 

And without those wants, 

without that hunger, 

I drift further into the shadows.

Work and life

a painful contrast. 

One gives me breath, 

the other takes it away. 

One fills me with rhythm, 

the other leaves me empty. 

One makes me feel alive, 

the other reminds me how close I am to disappearing.

I need to find a meaning to life. 

A reason to be here. 

Because right now, 

I live to work, 

not work to live. 

And that’s a sad story to be trapped in.