Searching For the Meaning of Existence
There used to be a time when I believed in God.
Yes, it's true. I didn't go to church and wasn't outwardly religious, but inside I felt there was some sort of being 'out there' that guided us all and provided our lives with a sense of purpose.
And then stuff happens, as always. A girl at my school took her own life, I witnessed a car crash involving a pregnant woman getting injured, and at the back of my mind, I started to doubt the existence of a benevolent force that allowed such things to happen.
So as I eroded away all the religious bedrock that I stood on, I was left with nothing. Everything seemed meaningless, just a pointless void, where my life consisted of mindless routine and repetition.
But then I started thinking. And I thought, and I thought, and I thought. And there came a dawning realization that my life still could have meaning. After all, meaning comes from within, and beauty from the beholder. There was still some good in the world, and that gave my life purpose.
I continued thinking, and on my search for meaning, I came across an article on existentialism on Wikipedia. Here, written on some site on the Internet, were exactly the things that I thought about. And there was more. Reading all new fragments of knowledge, everything came together in a wonderful epiphany of sorts.
It was a strange feeling, realizing that I wasn't the only one who fretted away on such problems, and I was glad. All those questions that lurked in the corners of my mind now seemed answerable, and existentialism led me onto various other parts of philosophy.
I'm still asking questions, and not getting answers as quickly as I want. But I feel good. My feeling on the subject is, if you can't find the absolute meaning of life, then the least I can do is find the meaning in my life.