Journal 17 years old

From a journal entry dated Spetember 13, 1997:
The question of late has been nothing extravagant or unusual. Only inasmuch as I am not spectacularly different from anyone else in regard to my disposition toward understanding the deeper facets of human existence do I ask it at all. The question is one of purpose, a question asked by countless masses through the ages of human history. It is an altogether obvious thing to ask, and I fear that I am no different from the atheist or the pagan regarding it. Can I question my reason for being where God has placed me? It is not a question of how better to serve God or to take what opportunity has been afforded me to serve Him. I do not like what I am, and I fear there is nothing more that I can become. Am I destined for obscurity? It seems at times that I have no gifts to offer in service to my God. I have very little, at best. What, then, would He have me to do? Is there any meaning or reason outside of Him? I have done nothing. In these years of my existence, though short, I have done nothing of any significance.