The world is a cruel place. And every day we are reminded that we don’t matter. Nothing justifies our existence or why we should keep living.
The burden is on each person to create a purpose for their existence and let it keep them going through the unpleasantness that is life.
If you’re lucky enough, you find a purpose that is greater than you and more sustaining than your own feeble life. You find this and hold on to it, you let it direct your dreams, expectations, from life and your actions.
And that is the best you get out of it.
Because otherwise no one cares; you’re just another living thing that could die at anytime. And the list of things that could kill you in the twinkling of an eye is a damn long one.
So you find a purpose and it becomes the focal point for you. Every narrative for every event in your life, you link to this narrative.
Like trying to understand senseless killings and injustice and wars and infant deaths and crazy people.
Why would a mother try to drown her own newborn? How could a grown man choose to defile a preteen? What goes on in a person’s mind to make them harm another human to the point of death?
These are senseless acts and whatever answers we get do not justify them. But a narrative keeps us believing in the meaningfulness of life.
The simple truth is that life is meaningless on its own. Any society of sapiens is bound to be corrupted by human nature, be it 100 years ago or 100 years to come.
Death is the only escape from this hellhole and should be a welcome relief to anyone lucky enough to be taken in its cold dark embrace. Because life is vain and death is the antidote.
Whom the gods love die young, they say. I agree. Let us die young and skip the journey through the darkness where occasional beams of light lull us into thinking there is hope or meaning.
Otherwise, let the meaninglessness be unbounded and let us live forever knowing that once we are in, we are in.
Prompt: Those whom the gods love die young.
