Is life easier with or without a purpose?
Before I met you, I don't think I had one.
You made me want to strive for your approval,
Want to become the best version of myself,
Do whatever I thought would make you smile.
My purpose was you. Making you happy.
I was convinced. I'd never felt more complete.
But when we parted ways, purpose vanished.
I'm still trying to figure out if it left with you,
Or just left indefinitely, never to be seen again.
I'm trying to find it in my own ways, but I can't.
It pales in comparison to what I had with you,
Poor substitute for what was my raison d'être.
I know I should give up looking for what's gone,
But there's a constant nagging voice I can hear,
Telling me that there's still hope to be found.
And although I'd love for that to be true, it isn't.
It never will be. Stop trying to persuade me.
Why can't you settle for what I found instead?