Everything Is Meaningless

I was thinking about the working person's life, and life in general, and yeah my conclusion is that life is meaningless. Really. Work all day, go home to do some admin, prepare food or eat out, maybe a spot of canned R&R, then back to work again. Even the breaks from work aren't particularly long. Most of the vacation stretches are precious short...if one even manages to get that long stretch in the first place.

Then comes the things to do when on vacation. Go someplace else, right? Like say maybe some far-off land. Just to see things, to reassure oneself that the lands actually exist and they kinda look like what they do on the postcards. Hell, maybe the world is flat and nothing exists outside the country's borders, eh?

And after all that work crap (insert mothering/parenting somewhere along the way, seasoned to taste), there comes retirement. At that point, most people are just too damned tuckered out to really chase anything. That's assuming their physical frames are still capable of much. And the brains. Brrraaaiiinnnsss. Ultimately? Nothing much remains.

After which everyone dies, as if they've never lived. No mark on history. No blaze of glory as they get the hell out of the mortal plane. Season with a bit of afterlife, if one swings that way. But it's a bit moot, considering that most mortal realm achievements don't map over to most afterlives.

Life is just a sad sad sexually transmitted disease that is the leading cause of death. Sometimes I wonder why I bother going on living, and I don't always have a good answer to that question. I just do, I guess, sort of like doing time. And taking photos. Maybe that's meaning, in some way.