Meaning of Life
Just a Soliloquy About The Meaning of Life
The Cruel Joke of Existence: My Personal Reflection on Life’s Absurdity
Life feels like a riddle that’s not supposed to have an answer. Every time I pause long enough to truly think about it, the whole thing starts to unravel. We’re thrown into chaos, we scramble to find meaning, and then—eventually—we die. In between, we spin stories of purpose, love, success, anything to distract from the gnawing feeling that maybe none of it matters.
The hardest part is admitting this truth: maybe the universe doesn’t care. Maybe it never did.
Yet, strangely, we care so deeply. We crave purpose, desperately believing there must be some reason for our struggles, some cosmic plan behind all this suffering. But every time I’ve searched for meaning, I’ve found silence. Just silence. A dark, endless silence.
Life Feels Like Absurd Theater
Look around—really look. Billions of us performing roles we never asked for. Tiny, fragile beings spinning through space, desperately grasping for control in a universe that gives none. We go to jobs, chase dreams, fall in love, convincing ourselves there’s a bigger picture. But doesn’t it sometimes feel ridiculous? Like we’re actors in a play with no script, no director, and absolutely no audience?
We’ve built entire worlds—religions, philosophies, economic systems—just to convince ourselves we’re more than accidental collisions of atoms. But what if all these stories are merely comforting distractions? What if existence is just a fleeting, absurd accident?
What if the joke is on us for believing it all matters so much?
Chasing Shadows of Meaning
The human mind—my mind—is burdened by an unending need for meaning. It’s both my greatest strength and my heaviest flaw. I can’t just exist; I have to understand. But the universe stubbornly refuses to give me answers, and honestly, that terrifies me.
So, like everyone else, I invent meaning. Love, success, happiness—I convince myself they’re keys to escaping emptiness. But no matter how much I chase, the emptiness remains. Because deep down, I know meaning is something we create, a fragile illusion we cling to desperately.
Ironically, the harder I seek meaning, the heavier life becomes. It’s like trying to grip water—the tighter I hold, the faster it slips away. Maybe life feels so crushing because I’m constantly demanding it justify itself. Maybe that weight is self-imposed pressure for life to matter more than it does.
Finding Freedom in Meaninglessness
Here’s a truth I’ve struggled to accept: life has no inherent meaning. It’s a void—indifferent and immense. But there’s freedom hidden in that darkness. If nothing inherently matters, maybe we’re free. Free from expectations, free from societal pressure, free to create our own purpose—or even embrace purposelessness entirely.
Imagine a life without constantly needing to prove something. Without feeling I must be someone, achieve something, or leave some profound mark. Without meaning, there’s no scorecard. The game feels rigged from the start, but without rules, I can play however I choose.
Learning to Dance with the Void
Albert Camus wrote about imagining Sisyphus—doomed forever to push a boulder uphill, only to see it roll back down—as happy. The meaning wasn’t in reaching the top but in embracing the struggle itself, despite knowing how futile it was.
It’s strangely comforting—almost beautiful—to think about laughing in the face of absurdity. To dance with life’s emptiness instead of running from it. Life is repetitive, cruel, and often pointless. But maybe the punchline isn’t despair, maybe it’s defiance. Finding joy in tiny, ridiculous moments, even knowing they’ll vanish.
Facing the Darkness I Avoided
If life has no meaning, I’m forced to confront the darkness I’ve always tried to ignore. The chaos, the void, the unsettling realization that nothing I do will truly last. But that darkness isn’t my enemy; it’s simply the canvas where I get to paint moments of light.
Maybe the answer isn’t in escaping the void but embracing it. Accepting absurdity. Stopping the endless search for answers. Instead, cherishing those fleeting moments that actually feel real—the warmth of sunlight, laughter shared with friends, my favorite meal. They might be temporary, but they’re genuine. Sometimes genuine is enough.
Embracing the Cosmic Joke
The universe doesn’t owe me meaning. It doesn’t owe me explanations. It owes me nothing. Perhaps that’s life’s cruelest joke: we’re alive, we’re aware, but we have no idea why. Yet we continue. We wake up, we work, we love, we hope—not because it makes sense, but because that’s what it means to live.
Maybe that’s the point—there never was a point. I roll my boulder, not expecting it to stay atop the hill, but because rolling it is what keeps me moving. It’s what makes life bearable.
So I’ll laugh at absurdity, embrace the darkness, and keep pushing my boulder—just one more time.