I like to believe being a bear has a point and, therefore, my bearness has a point. I am a bear in the forest, and it is nice to think that matters to something or somewhere to some end. Maybe the forest needs me and my bearness. Maybe some other creature needs me and my bearness. Maybe me just needing my bearness to be a bear is enough for my bearness to have a point.
I like to believe that.
But maybe being a bear is not supposed to have a point. No end. No meaning. Maybe I am a bear because I am a bear, that is all there is to it. That is a little scary, but it is also a little nice. If being a bear is truly pointless, it takes a great deal of pressure off of me and all the expectations I impose upon my…
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