what the f***?

I would imagine at some juncture in their lives, every individual wonders 'What the fuckin' hell am I doing here?' or more on the lines of 'Why me?' These periods of dread, conundrum and confusion.
A purposeless tread into the unknown that paints out a hazy picture of your life to come, albiet in melancholic hues. A sudden anxiety attack, like a tourette's tick, recurrs each time you think about what you were sent out here to do, to acheive. A good question for all of us to ask ourselves is, What should your epithet read, while you lay six-feet under, rotting unto the earth. Ash to ash, dust to dust.
Here lies you,.... and what?
And does it really make a difference to anyone that you are gone ?
Well it should, ideally. But look around, if you don't see cars that park themselves and phones that ignore calls from call-centres, chances are that the world you live in, is not IDEAL.
So re-run that Goodwill Hunting scene in your head, and realise that "It's not your fault... it's not your fault".
So whose fault is it?
But then again, everything, or so i feel, has the tendency to sort itself out. why? when? how?
I don't know. Keep the faith. we must.

Being the self indulgent sonofagunn that I am, my epithat would read,
Here lies Srini... Lived and Died... and made some people happy in the interim... ( or so he died thinking! )

Bottomline : Don't be afraid of the future, it's equally afraid of you...(yes like that stray dog)
Do the things that you make you feel alive.... and then die...