Just, what.
Not what am I doing,
For I know very well that I'm
Contracting and relaxing my diaphragm
And doing what I call
Breathing.

Not where am I going,
Because I know that I'm trying
To get through school to do well
In a high paying and enjoyable job,
To live happily with a man by my side.

Not how should I live,
As I'm not quite sure you can call this living
And when people tell me I'm doing it
All wrong,
I say it right back and just keep on
Keeping on.

Not why am I here,
Because I've asked a thousand times
But nobody seems all that willing to answer.  
Regardless whether there's someone there or not,
There's certainly no answers being spoken so
Either I'm doing it right or it
Just doesn't matter.

So, what else is there?
What else is there to ask,
Because I've come and gone,
And this is all I've seen.
What else isn't there
When this is all I've got?