The Point.

What is the point? Rather a broad question, that causes religion, and by extension politics, because, after there is an explanation there must be rules to make us behave in accordance with the explanation. But if no religion answers you, and you question still “What’s the point?”, how do you ever answer yourself, and be okay with it?

Consider, please, that we are the only creatures who would ever ask. All other meat-things are content with the answers in their wiring:

to

killAndEat

Or

dieAsFood

these are the point.

Those are the choices nature offers, and all other animals live with. We, though, with our abnormal brains have noticed that other animals seem to live to make more of their kind, and thus mistake their own point.

We live to make more life.

Says science.

But what if we’ve already made life, or given up that choice? Are we now surplus? Should we drop dead, and stop using air? Seems a waste.

Considering that life continues no matter if we live the point according to any others’ ideas, it would seem there isn’t one.

There. Isn’t.

One.

There being not a single, quantifiable, definable point to all of this, this mess, this madness, this life,

it would seem it’s up to you what the point of your own life is.

It’s up

To

You.

What matters to you?

What makes most sense to you?

Around what would you build your life?

What, when all else is awful

keeps you

Wanting

To live?

This is the point

of

Your life.