A friend of mine recently said something that disturbed me greatly. I mentioned how good it was to have a purpose in life. He replied that he had no intention of finding a path for his life, because not having a purpuse gave him greater freedom.

In response, I referred him to a narrative essay I wrote in my high school days so long (read: a few years) ago.

On the same site are links to a few of my other writings, also archaic. If you're feeling brave, feel free to check out the rest.