/lit/ - Literature

>By what measure can one say that all of this was for nothing? If you believe that the finite nature of life robs it of all meaning, then your definition of meaning is based on the assumption that something, anything, can be infinite. Why do you cling to this misconception, even as it tortures you so? Every day you live like this you are acting out a lie. By treating everything in life like a momentary distraction you are behaving as if you have infinite time, knowing that you really don't, not behaving as you were intended to, as if you are a thinking, creating, curious, loving being with a finite number of days on this earth and a sincere determination to live those days to the fullest. Yes, someday, the sun will explode. Someday you and I will die. But for now, for today, I'm here with you. And I couldn't be happier. And a million years from now, a billion years, even long after the universe is still and quiet forever if that is to be the ultimate fate of the material world, that will still be the truth. We were both happy. I love you, friend.