I am but a person among billions of other persons, on a small blue-green planet among millions more planets in our universe. I am but a small being—how much of a role do I play in the grand scheme of things? They say that the mere fluttering of a butterfly's wings create storms, this they call chaos theory. Am I the same? Do I create cataclysms in the cosmos by the mere gesture of my hand? Do I perhaps play a big role then?
I have a name, but so do many others. What is a name, truly? Does it define me, does it make me who I am, or is it a mere brand to which I am bound by? This name I bear, first and last, have belonged to countless others before me. Am I them—reincarnate?
Where do I come from, where do I go? Does my life have meaning or am I stuck in an endless cycle of to-dos, lessons and chores? Perhaps I should seek this purpose lest my afterlife, if there truly is one, disappears into a grey mist—a mere reflection of my life in living.
Living. Am I truly living?