I've always given much thought

to what my purpose in this world is, and every single time I would figure out the same "cheesy" (by other people's standards) conclusion:

I live to inspire hope- to help people in a way that others can't by just simply giving money to charities or by donating this or that to homeless people. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, because I do that too, but I want to help people in a more personal way. Singing at the City of Hope hospital for the first time in two months (due to no time to go there) made me realize that singing to a sick and dying patient can really turn their world upside down. You, my dear reader, most likely have not first-handedly sung to cancer patients. When you walk into the desolate halls and peer through the windows of the patients whom you're about to sing to, you can easily notice the blank, lifeless faces. And once we open our book to find some song to sing, one of their family members in the room with them (if there are any) opens the door with this look of awe that people of such spirit are actually allowed into the hospital to sing once a month. When you're singing TO a patient, singing that song specifically for that one single person, and you see their faces light up, you will understand what it means to give- to give hope. Some patients cry with joy, and some patients smile like all is right in the world, but no matter what their reaction is, you KNOW that a little candle of hope was just set on fire through looking at their faces. You KNOW that you can do so much in this world just by singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" (inserting their favorite baseball team, of course). It truly is touching when you know that you have helped a person realize that even though they are in the Intensive Care section of the hospital, there IS hope. Hope is an unimaginably strong word, and I can honestly say that I live for it.

My life is full of crap; really, it is. I break down about every day, but I'm never afraid to open up to people that I hardly even breathe a word to. I have nobody in my life; my mother is who-knows-where and my good ol' dad works until 11 or midnight (not to mention other curses of my life that are completely irrelevant to my point). I have to suffer in that bare white, 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom, 2-story house ALONE (with my fish Nemo, too) and I cannot call THAT my home because your home is where your heart is. My heart is in the air we breathe and the soil we walk on. The world is my home, and everyone's duty is to take care of their home, right? To maintain it and to keep it clean and to make it a better place, etc? I live to take care of my home and the other people living in it. And if that means I have to sing to dying cancer patients or travel to Africa and volunteer as a health aide, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I'd die to help this planet in any way possible. I live for you. I really do.

As I've said today to two very good friends of mine, it is the terrible experiences in our lives that make us stronger people. I must be pretty darn strong then.