Originally Posted by
thegent
Happiness, like the Holy Grail, Unicorns, God and perfection, does not exist, except of course among the dull, the stupid and just plain deranged.
Life is really an unwanted gift thrust upon us without any explanation as to why. Nevertheless, since we have it we might as well make the best of it until it ends. Frankly, it doesn't matter what one does since everything is ultimately futile.
Make love, make war, murder, rape, pillage, save, heal or succour, destroy, build, watch TV, run a marathon, work or sloth, nothing matters very much and very little matters at all.
Might as well sit in a cave with a finger up your bum muttering gibberish. Which, metaphorically speaking, most do here.