What do you keep living for? Is there a specific person, goal, or idea that you work for? Is there no meaning to life in your opinion?
Context: I’ve been reading Camus and Sartre, and thinking about how their ideas interact with hard determinism.
What do you keep living for? Is there a specific person, goal, or idea that you work for? Is there no meaning to life in your opinion?
Context: I’ve been reading Camus and Sartre, and thinking about how their ideas interact with hard determinism.
This is it. You die and you are gone, gone, gone. Make every day count and don’t waste time bargaining with an imaginary god for a preferred place in her cinematic universe.
It’s not grim. It’s extremely freeing. ‘Now’ is all there is.
But that’s such horrible pressure.
I have felt that once upon a time. But since there is no external meaning, I have decided our main purpose is to fart around a lot. I greatly enjoy those days when I can just be, without pressure to produce something.
Maybe that’s inner peace?
But those days where you just relax and enjoy yourself count as good days so that’s ok too.