You want to know the meaning of life? Fine.
Here's the truth nobody wants to say out loud:
Life isn't some radiant journey toward destiny, some fairy tale where your choices magically matter. It's a loop. Wake up, Dream, pretend you're happy, and go to sleep. Repeat until you rot. People cling to words like "dreams" and "purpose" as if chanting them will keep the darkness away, but deep down, we all know what's waiting at the end. Nothing. Just silence.
Don't mistake me for some pessimist who enjoys wallowing in misery. No, this isn't about pessimism; it's about simple honesty. Look around. Everyone is playing pretend. They laugh too loud, they smile too wide, and they whisper to themselves that they're special, that their lives mean something. But it's a lie. One they need to survive.
Me? I can't lie to myself like that. I can smile, I can laugh, I can go through the motions just like them… But I know it's hollow. It never feels real. Like I'm stuck behind glass, watching a world I can't touch.
And maybe that's why I keep asking myself: why am I still moving forward? Why do I keep breathing, keep playing along with this pointless script? Maybe it's fear—fear of the void, fear of the day I finally stop. Or maybe it's something else. A cruel instinct buried so deep inside us it won't let us give up, no matter how much we want to.
Here's the irony: I think the meaning of life is knowing there isn't one. Knowing the search itself is the curse. Some people will spend their whole lives clawing for an answer, praying their suffering will add up to something greater. But in the end? It's just sand in the wind.
Simply forgotten.
Still… there's a strange comfort in that, isn't there? If life has no meaning, then we're free to create one. Even if it's fragile. Even if it breaks. Maybe the point isn't to win the game. Maybe it's just to keep playing, even when you know or don't know the ending.
And if there is something, someone, out there watching, pulling strings, laughing at the way we struggle? Then let them laugh. Let them curse me, break me, and kill me a thousand times over.
I'll keep moving. I'll keep fighting. Even if the meaning doesn't exist, I'll find my own.
Because stopping – that's the only real failure.