Throughout the course of my life, the little sphere of existence that is mine has crossed with a wide array of persons / alternate spheres of existence, some good, some bad, and some so incredibly mediocre that they don't even register until the time has passed and we've both moved on. For the most part, if I haven't been able to enjoy those brief brushes with another human, then at the very least they managed to impart some tidbit of understanding as to the reason why they are here, if not a glimpse into why I am here.
But then there are the select few who leave me utterly confused, the types that pretty much disprove any concept of Intelligent Design, because you are left feeling kind of dirty, and wondering "Now why was that person made? Can there possibly be a purpose?"
I'm reading Atlas Shrugged (again) by Ayn Rand, and the one quote that has stuck with me is "The most despicable kind of man, is the man without purpose." I see so many people so desperate for purpose, for that little bit to prove their actual existence, that they would choose trees over their fellow men.
I'm not here to discuss today the ideologies behind what makes men climb trees (and subsequently fall out of them), but rather I had a brush this week with someone from my past that was so far from serving a purpose that she might in fact suck purpose from the world around her, and consume it.
We were discussing life, and the way it's turning out when she mentions that she wants children, which is a comment quite contrary to previous beliefs she's openly held. Upon further question as to why she wants children, her response was "I don't want to work, and just want to stay home, so I suppose I'll have to do something to get that."
Words fail me.