I'm going to be honest.

I sometimes ask myself why I am here. Why I walk the earth on my two feet, and grip the concrete with rubber soles. I ask myself why I brush my teeth with a soft bristle brush and put dandy smelling things in my hair. Why must it be this? Why must humans be the predominant species on earth? Why are we here? I think of myself as someone who looks to make money; however if someone that mattered to me asked that question then I would say I'm here to make a change. But does this alone make me a hell-destined, pessimistic asshole?

I argue that it doesn't. Maybe when my alarm goes off in the morning, and I hit snooze, and I lay there dreading my responsibilities for the day, it's the money that gets me up. I'll be completely real with you, whoever you may be, I don't get out of bed to do nice things for people. I don't think to myself, "Today is the day I put my two feet on the carpet next to me and open the door for someone." But I still hold the door for people. I still picked up that lady's credit card when she dropped it at the checkout line at the grocery store. I told this one kid I met at a party to keep chasing his dreams-when I knew they were near unattainable.

So I'm a good guy, yeah. I've never stolen anything from anybody, on purpose.

I have this idea of what it is that makes me do nice things for people. It's an image, however. It's the image of a man in solitude, perhaps in Montana in his own log cabin. It's a picnic in a green field with my lover, where there is only one tree for miles, and we are lucky enough to find the shade under it. It's the ladybug that I found on my steering wheel a couple mornings ago-she seemed to not be bothered by the things that go on around us. She was just living with those dots on her back, and her hipster red jacket. It's that fog that envelops my car as I commute every morning. Because for once in a blue moon, that fog is the only thing I worry about. I only worry about getting through that fog, which is just about 4 feet in front of me. I don't think about the rent that's due at the end of this week, and I sure as hell don't think about the look on my bosses face when I walk in 30 minutes late.

And yet it is indeed these things, this wide range of activities and ideas that include classic societal ideologies, as well as personally relative thoughts, that keep me going.

I listened to a song by Jim Croce the other day, called "Photographs and Memories", and it gave me this idea about love. Perhaps the reason people are happy when in love is because the only thing their minds ponder during the 86,400 seconds in a day is that person. Perhaps I'll write more about that later.

So I am here for the wind and the rain and the sun I suppose. I'm here for the things that only I see and appreciate. What keeps me going is the idea that I'll soon encounter and love something that only I will get to engage with. It shan't be the money, nor the lavish lifestyle I see on my phone, but the experiences and visions that only I create for myself.

Until we meet again, Ms. Ladybug.