What do you keep living for? Is there a specific person, goal, or idea that you work for? Is there no meaning to life in your opinion?
Context: I’ve been reading Camus and Sartre, and thinking about how their ideas interact with hard determinism.
What do you keep living for? Is there a specific person, goal, or idea that you work for? Is there no meaning to life in your opinion?
Context: I’ve been reading Camus and Sartre, and thinking about how their ideas interact with hard determinism.
I have felt that once upon a time. But since there is no external meaning, I have decided our main purpose is to fart around a lot. I greatly enjoy those days when I can just be, without pressure to produce something.
Maybe that’s inner peace?