During the most part of my life I pondered on the purpose on living. I could not find any meaning to being born and being dead at some point. Both of which were independent of my own will.
I found no sense in being sad or happy, in having friends or being in love, in having a great job or just wasting my time doing nothing. There was no point at all in living as we would all be dust in the wind in the end.
But is it not what life is in the end? To make the most of it? To cherish every moment with the people we love? To go places and just live? To make one with nature?