I often lay awake pondering the meaning of life. It begs me to ask the question "Why live? Why live when you can die?" Of this I fervently tell my ponderous self, "Life is an apple. Eat it before it rots.", and then I cry until all my energy is spent and my body gives itself up to sleep.
Upon return to my senses I have a crisp, cold bowl of Kellogg's Corn Flakes and a fresh tomato cut up with salt and cheese that has gone sour, mixed with only the finest of lettuce cooked in olive oil and a fresh copy of the day's newspaper, on the house, of course; from which, afterwards, I play a match of Chess versus my computer's AI set on its lowest possible setting (lest the game ends in my forfeiting all hope in life, walking to the cabinet and taking 50mg of Benadryl only to realise that this will accomplish nothing other than a bad trip and a case of the erectile dysfunctions, and passing out in a panic).
From this I found that it follows that it is has already been found that the meaning of life is that there is no meaning in life or to life, only through life, which afterwards is death, and that is a different story.
WARNING: READING THIS WILL CAUSE YOUR EYES TO IMPLODE
- Ministry of Health