I could have written that. Not recently, because there has been time to adjust. In a nutshell, the "self" is an illusion, as you now understand. A kind of mask we use to interface with this thing we call "reality". My realisation of that was a relief, to be honest, but later, when I saw and experienced that nobody else exists, it upset me greatly.

Like you, I've led a life of overcoming, a hero's life, some would say. I think of it as survival, but I guess some of it was heroic. It was certainly brave, at times. Sometimes, I feel like my purpose has been to overcome stuff that others could not, people in my lineage, breaking untold generations of abuse, dysfunction, mental illness, poverty, and on and on. I haven't beaten all of them yet, but many. Maybe most. Hard to know.

I've asked all the questions you're asking. For some I have answers that satisfy me. For others, I'm content with not knowing. For some, I suspect I will eventually know, but it's okay if I never do.

And as for purpose... I hate to say this, but more and more I think there really isn't one, not the way we think of it. It's more about... infinite storytelling, a self-perpetuating creation, where the creation is the creator.

Dunno if any of that makes sense. Maybe one or two things.