"In 4 billion years; the Sun will inflate so much it will swallow the Earth, and all life will die. We won't even be there to see this murderous star finally shrink miserably, to watch its glow fade into nothingness. So, what is the purpose of life? It is doomed before even being born. All life is flawed and ultimately mortal, save for bacterias and virii. See what are our better! See what will survive us! Disease and parasites, that aren't even truely alive. We are an anomaly to life, life is an anomaly to the universe, and when this error -- this minuscule accident of randomness, a mere dust grain in the cold, unfeeling, infinite space -- then the universe, a sad, empty, demented place with no purpose at all, will continue to slowly expend in silence, gnowing on nothingness, becoming colder and scarcer as time passes, until finally nothing continue to move.
But who cares? Humanity itself, despite its arrogant pride at becoming the self-acclaimed dominant specie of an unsignificant mudball, will not survive until the swollen agony of the Sun. We'll all die from pollution and disease long before. Watch the work of technology, and despair! Our soulless society thinks that running ahead ever faster will let it break through the wall that stand in front of it.
We had nearly eradicated most diseases; but now new sickness arise, against which we can do nothing, and the old maladies are now laughing at our medecine.
We had walked on the Moon, but now we use all the energy we have to drive hummers and other uselessly resource-wasting cars.
We had discovered wonderful chemicals, and now we realize we don't know the tenth of the late after-effects of these, and we find ourselves exposed to sterility and mutations.
We had invented wonderful communication means to share knowledge and enlightenment, and now we use them to share stupidity and brainwashing, through trash-TV and propaganda.
We had learned so much about how the world works! And now, we're attacked from the inside and the outside by people who want us to return to our primitive beliefs and superstition.
We had true geniuses, people skilled in all fields of knowledge and philosophy! And now, where are the da Vincis, where are the Mirandoles? Our philosophers are replaced by pundits, and our artists by posers who think mediocrity is an art form.
We had so much! And now, we see it was so little. Dusty greatness, lost illusions, meaningless glory. Image! Image! Everything's faked, nothing is true anymore. Seeming beats being.
And in these vainglorious days where everything flows freely, luxuries and knowledge, we see these things mankind craved above all were sad jokes, leaving a sour taste. Knowledge? Forgotten the moment it's learn, drowned in an overflow of trivia. Luxuries? All are poisons, that makes you sick, cancerous, obese, sterile, or worse, or all that! While at the same time ruining people who lose their job because child labor in a faraway dictature is cheaper.
What's the purpose of life, except death?
What's the purpose of civilisation, except decadence?
What's the purpose of memory, except oblivion?
Know that the cause you fight for will be forgotten.
Know that the being you love will die.
Know that yourself are nothing.
And weep. Cry that you are cursed to live in this imperfect world, a meaningless life because there are no rooms for meaningful things. There is no room for you. There is no room for me.
Now, let's drink and be merry, let's spend our money on ale and whore! The world may die tomorrow, this night I'll daze my angst through sensual decadence and animal exhaustion! Since there's no purpose in life, quench your thoughts and your feelings with pleasure. If you're supposed to stop thinking, at least, do it through fulfilling means, rather than through the lukewarm flow of stupid things spouted by TV!"
