I read some more passages on the meaning of life, this time from 3 other guys whose names I won't bother trying to remember. It seems like everybody who tries to come up with the meaning of life just determines that there isn't one. It makes sense, I mean look at us. We spend our lives doing what? Living, and that's about it. Some people build big ol' buildings, some people write insightful books, I don't know, people do all kinds of things. But take a step back and realize that in some number of years the buildings will crumble and the books will be burned (okay, maybe not burned, but they aren't there forever). In the end, there really isn't any permanent meaning to life.
So what�s the point of living? Well, there�s still a few ways to get by without having to kill yourself. Try denying the fact that life is meaningless. Pretend that there is a God and that He knows the meaning, and if you are good, then maybe after you die he�ll tell you. Or try ignoring the fact that your life has no meaning (this is what I do most of the time). Pretend that your struggles and your suffering are all going to lead to something. Eventually your needs and wants will all be met, you will feel completely satisfied with your life, and will eventually die happy. Or you can do your best to just be happy all the time. If something makes you upset, ignore it and find something that will make you happy. You will be a total asshole, but it might make you happier. And then there�s always the Buddhist way of giving up all your wants and just be the Zen-motherfucking-master. Good luck Billy, moron #42.
