No, you are nobody. Not a special Being sent to existence on a mission. There is no purpose for your being. Your life does not matter to the equilibrium of the Universe. Your flutter is not going to send shockwaves anywhere. Not even a ripple. You are propelled to Earth by mere chance; the right protein unwasted, utilised meaningfully at the right place at the correct time. Conversely, you could have been just a flushed down debris amongst the many putrefying wasteful effluents of humanity. You are not chosen. Neither are those around you. Neither of you is selected for each other either. The bond that you build along the way is just brittle as the next heart that you break in your next tour of duty called life. Everyone is for himself when it matters most. The filial piety that you give or expect is just societal arrangements to ensure that the unproductive segment of the crowd is responsibly assigned to someone. The cloud of guilt hovers over its shirkers. This kind of arrang...
It is all Mimesis