I asked AI the meaning of life
Does it matter?
I was sitting in front of my laptop screen.
A thousand things waited — assignments, deadlines, this blog.
But I couldn’t write. Couldn’t start. Couldn’t care. I thought. Where did that passion that drove me go?
The ceiling fan buzzed like it was trying to erase my thoughts.
I kept thinking to the point where I didn’t want to think anymore.
I didn’t even know what I was thinking, just that my brain was sprinting,
and I wasn’t moving. I was looking for something that I could not find, as profound as perfect. To me, perfect is not social; it’s numbers and quantities. Concrete. Tangible. Whenever I start to think about good, bad, grey, or the meaning of life, I reach a dead end. So I turned to ChatGPT, like most of my problems which I don’t want to talk about.
“What is the meaning of life?”
It didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate.
Just typed. As fast as it could in 2 seconds.
“Life exists as a result of conditions that made it possible — energy, matter, time, chance. There is no inherent meaning unless you create it.”
Profound. Perfect. Logical. Is this due to our human knowledge? Perhaps so. We’ve come so far that we can now hold centuries of it in our palms.
But no one cares about that, right? We care about what the AI says.
What it helps us write. Because deep down, we’re scared. Of silence. Of purposelessness. Of writing a life no one reads. So we ask again.
But is absurdism really an answer?
I typed it in. It answered in 2 seconds.
As an AI, I don’t experience consciousness or emotion, but I can process the concept of absurdism and offer a perspective based on human philosophy and logic.
Wow. Shocker. I see AI is not that profound after all, and unless u believe in those Silicon Valley conspiracies where AI develops consciousness and takes over the world, I think AI is dumb. A copy of everything plagiarized and maybe stops our brains from thinking the actual meaning of life by pulling it into the need for consumerism in every aspect of life.
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s the only thing that makes sense when nothing else does.
Absurdism doesn’t hand you a purpose wrapped in metaphors and godly fate. It just shrugs. Says, “Yeah, it’s pointless. Do it anyway.”
It feels like being honest for once, painfully, unapologetically honest.
Maybe absurdism is the answer, but it’s not a comforting one.
It doesn’t offer solace, or even understanding. It just points out the obvious: life is meaningless. You don’t do it for anything. You don’t do it for anyone. You do it because you’re stuck in this cycle of absurdity.
Absurdism doesn’t offer you anything to hold onto. It doesn’t offer you any kind of answer that will make you feel better. It just tells you that the absurdity of life is a fact you can’t ignore. It’s not some grand philosophical truth you can feel warm and fuzzy about. It’s a cold, hard slap in the face that says, “There’s no purpose. Deal with it.”
Absurdism doesn’t hand you a reason to keep going. It just says, you keep going anyway.
And in that, there’s nothing to cling to. No warmth. No promise of something better. Just the sheer, unrelenting absurdity of it all. But again, we always need a purpose. We ask everything. We ask, but we don’t want the answer. We just want the illusion of one.
And in that silence, the question hangs in the air, unanswered and forgotten.
The Endless Search
It doesn’t give you answers. It just tells you that maybe there never was one. And the worst part? We keep asking, What is the meaning of life? because we want a purpose. We need one. But we will never get it. Not from an AI model, not from our philosophies, not from anything or anyone. Maybe that’s the most absurd thing of all. The search itself. The endless, pointless search.
Because what else can we do? Stop? Give up? Accept that life is just a string of meaningless moments? Maybe that’s the scariest part of all: that we might have to live with the fact that the search itself is all there is. That the answers we’re looking for are nothing more than figments of our imagination, psychology, what humans have evolved into. And yet, we keep going. We keep asking. Because to stop would mean accepting the absurdity. And no one wants to do that. Not really.
Only because we need something. We need anything. Even if it’s the lie that life has meaning. We’ll chase it until our last breath, and it will always slip through our fingers.
Not tryna be famous
just tryna feel less alone.
[@inkedinemotions] if u wanna read the mess that made me.
