Purpose In Life 1: Questioning

A strange thought crossed my mind a while back.

In camp, someone had mistakenly scribbled across a white board using permanent markers. As part of the cleaning-up effort, we were using whiteboard markers to go over the permanent ink, and when we were done we threw away the whiteboard markers.

That's when it struck me. Let's say I were a whiteboard marker, made with the sole aim of writing delible messages on white boards. Assuming I knew what I was made for, would I want to be used to write, and look on in envy at all my sibling markers who fulfill their life's purpose as I lie in my box unused? Or would I be happier remaining unsold in some warehouse or stationary shop?

And what if unlike all my siblings I take the road less travelled, and end up deleting permanent ink instead of being used to write? What then? Glad that I was special, was useful to others, or would I be devastated over never fulfilling my original purpose in life?

What if a marker doesn't know what it was made for, and what its purpose in life is?

But as the army has very strict rules over using brains for constructive thought, especially when you lack substantial rank, I let the thought pass. Maybe one day I'll revisit this... perturbing yet pertinent train of thought.