The meaning of life

Death. That's what gives life meaning. And the meaning is nothing.

I arrived at this realization the hard way. When I was 28. When my dad died.

Then I stopped. I tried to give my life meaning. And all I ended up doing was create walls to imprison me. Somehow, my death returned to being a hypothetical event. Something that will happen in the distant future. And my life started to take on meaning all by itself. Not sure how it happened.

Meaning = fear.

Meaningless = freedom.

Food for worms. Kings and paupers alike. And me.

This question of what if I were to die tomorrow is bullshit. I could die this afternoon. Tonight. This minute. How does one forget that?

I will die. How is it that I can go through most of my life forgetting this basic fact? In fact, it's the only thing that I know to be true. Everything else is conjecture at best.

I will die. So what? So why am I living, worrying, doing as if I will live forever? Why is there so much disparity between what I know is true and my actions?

Not really sure how to answer that.

The point is go further. To move past any obstacles, not make a study of obstruction.

So, the real question is the same question. Knowing that I'm about to die, what should I be doing?

It's interesting that the only thing comes to mind is to make a will to leave my possessions to my mother. This is the only answer that has come up for me repeatedly. Nothing else comes up.

Beyond that, I just want my freedom. I want to be released from this life. From its hold me. From thinking that it's valuable or that I should make something of it, or ...

Nothing matters. The more I make peace with that, the more at peace I will be.