Years ago, I was working in a busy cafe with a man around 30 years old. We were talking about something involving math; he had been an engineering major who lost interest after he graduated and ended up slanging lattes for minimum wage with yours truly.

We were talking about a simple problem but neither of us could figure out the answer. I laughed about it and made a comment about how it must be true that knowledge is use it or lose it.

He stood there for a second and sort of gazed off, and then he said, “I hate feeling inept. I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life.”

At the time I was unsure how to react. My life consisted of parties and the odd shift at work to cover the cost. I had no context to understand how he felt. We both quickly went on to other tasks and it never came up again.

But as the months and years go by, I find myself feeling more and more like I imagine he did. The more I see, the less anything seems to matter. There’s no purpose to anything. No goals to accomplish other than getting by.

I wish I was sailing a little boat across the stars a few hundred years from now. Just me and the universe, alone with our thoughts. A purpose, a frontier to be explored and expanded on. I just feel like humanity is in a stagnant time. We are meant to grow and run free and explore, but all we do is slang lattes and ask if they want fries with that so we can take our pittance and have a drink.

I want a frontier of imagination.

I want the sky.