Drifting through the cosmos was to me, my sole purpose.

I could not do anything else after all, because there was nothing to do. I had long ago reasoned that there must be an end. For I had a beginning, and logic assumes that I must end.

But what pained me was the fact that I was here.

Why exist, if my life is devoid? Why did I occur? Why am I? These thoughts plagued my mind for eons, until I settled on an answer. Albeit, roundabout in nature. I was here to be. That is all. If the only reason that I am here, is to be here, then I am happy.

And so to fulfil my purpose, I wait.

My ending will come soon, and my purpose will be fulfilled. To have lived, and to eventually not. That is who I am.

But.

What if there is more? What if there are others? What if I'm not alone? What if my purpose is to discover another's purpose? If I exist like this, I can assume I am not unique in my situation. Others may be cursed to endure like me.

And so I drift. Past dying stars and lifeless asteroids. With a purpose. With a hope.

To be more than I am.