The Depression of Whales.

So today I have been experiencing the sperm whale type of depression. For those of you unaware of the existence, it stems from Douglas Adams and his Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. This whale, called into existence suddenly several miles above the surface of a planet, has very little time to come to terms with its existence. The way the whale feels is remarkably like what I'm experiencing at this moment in time. "Aaaaahhh whoah what's happening? Who am I? What's my purpose in life?" As I sat at the computer, I was thinking about how purposeless my life is. I don't really do anything but study, work, write, dance, and talk to people. What good is that going to do? I don't want to just survive. That's all I'm doing right now. Sort of living life with the flow of things. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to live life on the edge, seizing every opportunity as it comes to me. I've been taking up too much space living in the middle. I suppose I thought that if I just calmly went with what came my way, instead of snatching and running with what came my way, I would find life an easier road. Sure it's easier, but it has gotten boring to the point of me wondering why I'm even taking up oxygen. So, while I'm falling through the air, attempting to come to terms with my existence, I will not simply wait passively for my death. I will struggle violently not to fall too quickly. I will spend every moment thinking. I will not waste time musing over things I can't change. I will work my butt off to accomplish my goals before I hit the ground. Eventually, before I do hit the ground, I'll figure out who I am, and maybe what my purpose in life is.