Does life have a meaning? If yes, what's it?

Ever since humans developed a smart-enough brain, a big question has been hanging in there, waiting to be answered by anyone. Does life have a meaning? We've created tons of coping mechanisms so we can forget about the idea that our existence is actually, purely meaningless— Or well, not quite.

What is a meaning in life? 

For some people, the meaning of their life is to follow their god and do as they say. Go to their idea of a good place after life and condemn anyone who says things, acts like or is like something that their religion doesn't consider holy, correct, proper. For others, the meaning of their life is to pursue their interests; be a famous actor, be an artist, be a musician, write books, film videos. Or others, just believe their meaning in life is to make others happy, or to help others. 

But all of those people were born believing that their lives did not, actually, have any meaning. All those people, whether they admit it or not, have questioned their meaning. Some when sad, some when not sober, some in a completely normal day— Whether they, whether we admit it or not, we've questioned it, after all, our brains are wired for that— To question. 

I, like any of those people listed and unlisted, have questioned myself about my meaning, my purpose, my reason, and I would like to share my idea of a "meaning of life" and would also like to see other points of view, so if anyone would like to share their own opinion I'm welcoming with open arms for you all.

I think life does not have a meaning, but let me elaborate.

Every single small thing that happens, anything you say or do, or how you act, or how a leaf moves, or how the wind feels like, or in what exact millisecond a start disappears from the universe, each and every one of them is pure, mere luck. But luck isn't the luck you try to manifest, luck is relative, depending on how, when, why it affects you.

The big bang was all luck. The day being rainy can be bad for some, but for the ones who wanted to find the best excuse, so they could ride their parent's car to school instead of walking, it is luck. It isn't called luck because the universe decided it is, it is called luck because when, where and how it happens affects you in a positive way. Like the big bang and everything that came after it, that was luck— Luck because it made it possible that it is, you, me, it made it possible that all of us are here today, reading this- in my case, typing it. That is luck.

So therefore, your own life is luck. Well, it is sort of complicated. Let me rephrase; I think life both has and doesn't have a meaning.

The day your parents decided to have you, to keep you, that made your life have meaning for the first time, your life meant something to them. Your life means something to your friends, those who love you. 

But life itself, is meaningless, luck. In this universe, in this time, you are your parents' child, the one they raised, but in another universe, there might be someone that looks like you, has your name, acts like you, is like you, but isn't you. Not because you already exist, but because in that universe, you aren't your parents' child, they are.

Life is meaningless as itself, it might be hard, sad to hear, but it is what it is. 

The other day, last month, I was talking with my friend. She was talking to me about her stay at her aunt's, and told me how as she stayed there her aunt and her family kept talking about death, about life.

That day she confessed that she's scared of being forgotten. What did I tell her? I said that, yes, our lives are meaningless, purposeless and that after just a couple generations, people will forget everything about us. Same with celebrities, it'll just take longer. Only if you do a really ground-breaking life-changing discovery, you will be forgotten and never talked about ever, ever again. But that's alright, because how I said, life both has and doesn't have meaning. Your life might not have been really useful for the time you were alive, and no one will really forget your name and who you were after you die, but currently, your life has meaning. You make life less miserable for your friends, family, lovers, everyone you know. You've gained a space in everyone you've known's mind, even if they never admitted it. You have finite meaning, and that's totally okay.

We as humans are finite, infiniteness is finite, why bother about a future and prolonged memory of us when we can focus more on making our presence known now, no matter if it lasts several years or not.

Life doesn't have a meaning, at least not a long one, but there’s no reason to be sad about it. As long as you make others happy, or you enjoy stuff, even small stuff, that is enough to make your life have meaning, even if it is for less time than you'd like it.

Life doesn't have a long-term meaning, but not because we're meaningless, but because nothing lasts forever