I have no dreams.

I realized this on a Friday afternoon in the middle of Chinese class. My teacher told us to name five people or things that we liked to practice a new grammar structure she had just taught.

Simple, I had thought. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

I’m sure the last thing my teacher expected was that asking that question would prompt a student’s existential crisis, but at any rate, that’s exactly what ended up happening to me in that moment.

What did I like doing? What did I want to do in the future?

I went through a quick checklist of “Things I Have Said I Liked At One Point Or Another.”

Art? But I barely even draw now. Writing? I’ve barely even written a word outside of class since sixth grade. Reading cringey manga from the ‘90s? OK, yeah, but that’s not something I can do as a job now, is it?

Was there anything I was passionate about pursuing?

And as I sat there, no sentences forming in my mind, the few minutes she had allotted for us to practice ended before I knew it.

The question lingered on my mind for the next few days. The more I thought, the more I was certain that there was absolutely nothing I wanted to do. 

So what was I living for? What was all this work for? Why was I waking up every day?

And the big, encompassing question: Was there a purpose to my life?

I felt like a failure of a human being. After all these years and the countless times I’ve heard the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I still found myself drawing a blank. What had I spent these 15 years doing? I was already halfway through high school, and yet still hadn’t found my aspiration.

And as I struggled through my teenage midlife crisis, I sat down at my desk, the one that I sit at every day, opened the laptop I look at every day and gazed out the window that faces me every day.

Then it dawned on me. Why was I living? Because I like being alive. And why do I like being alive? Well.

Because every single day has something that brings me joy.

I don’t look toward the future. I just live each day enjoying the nice things I notice in those 24 hours.

I like the pretty color of the Post-its scattered around my desk, I like the sound of my clock 

ticking unevenly behind me, I like the feeling of my blanket against my skin at night, I like the strangely comforting smell of my textbooks, I like the slightly sweet taste of my water — these are the reasons I open my eyes every morning and get out of bed.

I live for the trivial things, the minor moments, the things I won’t be able to remember one month down the line, the things no one but me will ever glance at. I live for the feeling of being alive.

I’m content with floating along, doing whatever I happen to be doing. Maybe I’ll be a salesperson. Maybe I’ll be a teacher. Who knows? I sure don’t. All I know is that I want to get giddy about the color of the sky forever.

I have no dreams. 

But I have learned to live with that.