Existential crisis?

Who the Hell am I, and what the Hell am I doing here?

What is my life, anyway?

Is my life about showering, dressing, eating, drinking, driving to work, logging on & logging off, reading & writing stuff?

Is it?

Or is my life about the children I brought into this world?

Is it about the friends I made? The friends I lost?

Is my life about trying to keep body and soul together? Purchasing products and services, then trying to figure out how to pay for them?

Is my life about loving my wife?

Is my life about nothing? Everything?

Is my life about whatever I want it to be about?

Are there any guidelines, and would I even follow them if they existed?

Is my life about the myriad responsibilities I take on?

I see fellow travelers every day.
Some old, some young,
Some injured, some healthy,
Some living, some dying.

Thoughts tumble through my head,
cascading one after another,
Sometimes like angry bees swarming around my head,
sometimes like snakes slithering through the underbrush, following other snakes that are following other snakes and so on.
Most thoughts never reach my consciousness, and most of those that do never find expression through my lips or my fingertips.

I wonder.

I just wonder.

So maybe that’s what my life is about.

Wondering about my life.