There are very few things in this world that may drive a person further than a purpose. All the greatest heroes and geniuses of history, the greatest villains and thieves, the poorest and wealthiest of character, are all; in the end, slaves to their purpose- in this way, man-kind is but a slave to the ramblings of his own mind. And yet there is some beauty to be found amidst all our self caused suffering; the greatest joke of all being, that there is nothing to suffer for but that which we create. The problem is, man has a tendency to be so estranged from his own nature, that he cannot let go of this passing purpose, and so he is enveloped by his own repressed self. The tyrant of purpose is unescapable, so long as the belief that it is unescapable remains. Purpose can be a victim as well; a slave in its own right, to those who would tear their own desires to shreds, and leave nothing left but the center of their personality. Purposelessness can be purposeful, and purposefulness can be purposeless. It is no small thing to attempt to find exactly what it is that one WANTS out of life; for in the modern mind, there remain many shadows which block out the sun of our needs. Even if one may be convinced that what they want is right, it is possible to feel as though it is wrong, for whatever reason that remains unconscious to the feeler, and if this desire is wrong to the witness of the self, then it is likely that it is meaningless as well. There are many desires which remain meaningless, but even the desire to desire is still desiring, and the cycle of want cannot be broken lest by death or destruction. So is there a meaning at all? It is very simple; though perhaps the most difficult of realities to accept: it doesn't really matter. If one wishes it to matter, it will matter. If one does not wish it to matter, it won't matter. This is the simplicity of human will, and the simplicity of human existence.
What one wishes to learn from the depths of himself, he may see blatantly in his every day life.
What one NEEDS to learn from the depths of himself, must be sought out in all things, in all actions, in all visions and thoughts, dreams and interpretations of life. Should one want what he needs, he will place himself in the hands of fate, and in so doing is returned; in good faith, to the heaven from which he became too aware to remain in.
So what then, is there to do? What then, is the point? What is the greatest purpose?
I say you should stop reading this, and go outside.