A late night diary entry, on purpose

i don’t have purpose. when all the noise of everyday life goes out, when i’m not struggling with missing my ex, a problem at work or any other ongoing life issue, i’m reminded of the same old emptiness. you’ve heard me describe it as a lack of “home” or place of belonging and in part it may be that, but there’s another thing i’ve felt a strong lack of in my peaceful days. they tell me my life is not a project and that i don’t constantly have to better it but i have the dream. for something bigger, something more meaningful. something that i don’t have to think twice for getting out of bed for. i’ve felt it before for smaller projects — a birthday card that i wanted to make for a friend, a book that needs finishing, a new person in my life i’m waiting on replies from. that sense of purpose, of a calling of a life mission. fine I’ll accept if it’s not a life mission maybe, but wanting to build something, create something, accomplish this one specific goal — i don’t have that.

is it a futile search? will i die with this hollow space in my stomach?