The Meaning of Life

Here it is.

There is none.

Everyone wants the answer.

I’m not different… I want the show to finish on a high note. I want all the problems resolved and questions solved, mysteries revealed to be meaningful lessons. I want my beautiful masterpiece, my purpose defined.

I want… I want. 

It’s not coming. Click-bait and hope lead us to read mindless garbage as we waste our time on pointless exercises of discussion and on, and on, and on we go, until we stop like broken clocks. 

There is no meaning. 

There is no answer.

What a sad bunch of idiots we are, what arrogant monkeys. We believe in things for the simple reason that we want to matter, we want our suffered trials and tribulations to lead us to the promised land, where we finally find out why, why, 

Why do we live? 

Just because. 

Because we do, and we are. 

That’s it. That’s all. 

Life and death and philosophy and religion and art and music and all of these things are simply distraction. 

There is no point. 

Love… Love. The inspiration for everything, the motive for so much energy directed at nothing… It’s not tangible. Show me love and I’ll show you hurt. Show me love and I’ll show you hatred, and wounds deeper than the Grand Canyon, show me love and I’ll show you misunderstanding. 

There’s no point.

It is what it is. 

We are what we are, and that’s mostly…


There’s no answer. 

There’s no point. 

We Would Love To Hear Your Thoughts

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