The Meaning of Life is a Waste of My Time

The whole world seems to be bumbling around for a sense of purpose these days. Some find it in work; some religion; even more some in the tantalizing pleasures of the world. I must admit I've fallen into this neverending trap of a search for some sort of meaning. Why are we here? What is our purpose? These questions have berated me for all the years I've attended Catholic schools. One wrong answer and you get this continuous look of pity. The poor child doesn't understand, but I've never agreed with the idea that these questions are answerable. Call it agnosticism if you will, but in my opinion saying we can't answer these questions is true. There is no definite answer, but it doesn't mean we can't speculate and decide our own opinion. Don't try to tell me one is right and the other is wrong, though. They are both correct in their own ways.

In my opinion, the purpose in life is to simply live. Whatever your idea of living is. For me it's exploring. I don't like to be tied down by a single philosophy and belief system. We're always changing and growing and our ideas grow with the world. I want to do everything that intrigues me. I want to learn everything and see everything and just create and live. Because you can't explore the world through the eyes of your teachers or your ministers or priests or parents or friends. They give you ideas from their angle, but your angle is the most important. In the end, it's your eyes seeing the world and your mind processing it into ideas that become your beliefs.