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What is my purpose?
What is my purpose? Why does this question even occur? As babies, we experience joy: someone feeds us, bathes us, puts us to sleep—there is no worry whatsoever. Why can't we be like newborns and take everything as it comes, fluidly maneuvering like water passing through a stream? Why do we even have to think of a purpose? If you are strongly driven by one, that's good. If you aren't, that's also good. Is there a need to have a purpose? What brings you to the point of asking t
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