August 13, 2019 1 min read


I don't know the meaning of life.

No one does.

We create meaning.

Maybe it's to avoid suffering.

I don't even know the meaning of my own life.

Maybe it's to relieve suffering.

I'm learning.

Yet with each passing day I'm less and less certain.

That's okay.

Certainty is meaningless.

The meaning of my life might change from day to day.

From hour to hour.

I'm still learning about the meaning of my own life.

I've got a long way to go.

Some days I feel clueless.

I want to help you, but I don't know how.

Figure it out already!

It bothers me.

I suffer through it.

I hope that makes sense.

I'd like life to turn out a certain way.

A way with less suffering.

For me.

For you.

For everyone.

But my life is my life regardless of how it turns out.

I go to work because it feels good to help people who are suffering.

Including myself.

Some days I fail.

Some days I succeed.

Perhaps a little less suffering.

That's a good day.

That's good a meaning as any.

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