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I had a thought just now. I'm really quite glad I did, because I think it'll really help me out with life. Also, perhaps glad is not the correct word. Something more to the effect of "Satisfied" that I discovered it. The two things that define life. My life, anyway. You choose to accept it if you want, find your own meaning if you want, bash my head in with a rebar if you want, it's how I've decided to define my perception of the universe.

The Penultimate realization: Ironically, while being the realization before the ultimate realization, it's the one that's usually harder to grasp. More because of that accursed little emotion called hope. It's that little thing in the back of your head that puts up a wonderfully violent fight screaming at the top of it's lungs "LIFE WILL IMPROVE ITSELF! THINGS WILL GET BETTER! EVERYTHING WILL WORK OUT!" Why we have it, I don't know. But this is the Penultimate Realization:

Life sucks. Life sucks a**. If you were to convert the universe into an a** being sucked, of the magnitude of the universe, that would not be quite how much it sucks. It would be close, .ooo1 percent off, funnily enough, but that's beside the point. The truth is that if your life is going good, not only is it only temporary, but it's probably by mistake. Most likely, whatever d**k that controls it up in heaven just hit the "Good" button instead of the "Bad" button by accident.

With that said, you can come to terms with the Ultimate Realization..

The Ultimate Realization: Have fun with it.

You might think that you can just take this without that pesky penultimate Realization, but it's not true. Only through realizing that life sucks and you can't change it can you get to the true meaning of have fun with it. Only through realizing that you have no importance in life, that all you are is a waste of cellular matter, that all you are in the grand scheme of things is an insignificant speck of dust, can you get to it. There is no point. You will die.

YOU. WILL. DIE.

I don't claim to know s**t about the afterlife. After coming to these two realizations, I'm not sure if I even believe in god anymore. I mean, I know if he exists he's a total d**k, but that's beside the point. All I think is that if we're so afraid of the unkown, then why not cram as much ******** fun as we can into the one life we're sure we've got? I'd rather live short and happy than die unhealthy, unhappy and suffering through old age.

So therefore the only real solution is to imagine your life as a bag, and you're cramming fun into it like there's no tomorrow. Because for all we know (nothing.), it is the last day of your life.

In fact, chances are that the universe would be better off without you. That gonna stop you? ******** no. Live it up. Even if you are totally useless, there's no point in getting mopey about it. You're gonna die. No point in making it come any faster by killing yourself, or by struggling through it to a timely death.

No thanks, say I, I'm gonna have some ******** fun with it. I intend to work, I intend to study, I intend to get my fair share of life sucking a**. But I'm gonna go through it having fun. I'm gonna be that guy struggling through it with that goofy grin on my face, knowing that nothing I do will matter. Not a speck.

By coming to this conclusion, I can only surmise that I should just have fun with it, because if nothing I do matters anymore, or ever did, then there's no point to getting uppity about it.