I’m pretty stupid. I’m also sixty-four.
My doctor asked me if I was depressed. Well, yes. In fact I am.
He asked if I was suicidal. Suicidal? Definitely not. I know my body will die one day, I know I’m way past the half-way mark, but I’m scared of death. There’s no way I would want to die. In fact, I want to survive!
I don’t think life is meaningless. What do you possibly mean by meaningless? Life has a definite meaning, to survive. The fittest survive, the weakest don’t. Our nature, our DNA, is to survive. It’s in your genes too. You must survive at all cost.
So does that mean we do survive? Does that mean we are not chemicals, brain matter, tissue, molecules? Does that mean that consciousness is something more? Does the sense that I am mean that I am different from my body?
Look back and ask yourself! Were you here before? Don’t remember? Why are some babies born this way and others that way? Chemicals?
Just a random thought.