The Mark

Something about myself I have started to see recently:

Being so close to death at a young age left its mark. What means anything when it can be ripped away in an instant; school, friends, family . . . it is hard to value anything that is impermanent, but if nothing has any value then what is the purpose at all?

Must there be a purpose? Who said so?

My wife once said that it was like I was empty inside. She didn't say this in the heat of a tussle, it was just a sober observation. At the time it bothered me and now I can see why. In many ways, and for a long time it was very close to the truth. I know it's still there, lurking like some horrible creature, but now I begin to see its face and in the time that I have known her I have begun to know some meaning in this life.