The Question of the Meaning of Life

So I was checking my e-mail and it hit me, there’s no meaning to life and then I got very depressed at this idea and I lay in a ball on the couch of my living room and contemplated what I should do since there was no meaning to life. I thought it wouldn’t really matter if I killed myself and if my boyfriend came home and found me somehow I would feel like I outsmarted him, then I was thinking that I was thinking crazy and I knew I shouldn’t have stopped taking my damn pills so I thought that some good old MaryJane would lift my spirits so I went searching for my boyfriend’s ‘cause I had accidentally bumped mine off the bathroom counter this morning. I found it in his sock drawer in a half sock with baby green on the toes and heel and I hoped it wasn’t a sock that he ever would wear and then I took it out and there was still some bud in it, but it was all black so I turned it over and the other side was green, so I smoked this, not having any idea how old it was since my boyfriend didn’t smoke weed and I didn’t even know why he had a pipe and the pipe looked like an average size penis and as I put it to my mouth, I felt weird. I don’t know how he can possibly smoke out of it and not feet gay. But anyway, so once I finished it I didn’t feel any closer to the meaning of life so then I thought, well what do normal people do? And then I thought, normal people waste their lives in front of the tv. I thought this was a brilliant idea so I went over to the TV and turned it on, only I only have three channels and all three of them were the news on politics and one of them was talking about the economy going down the toilet and news is depressing enough without hearing about stuff being flushed down the toilet so then I turned it off and thought that most people really must be stupid if they can stay entertained by that and then I thought maybe the meaning of life would be clear at the bottom of a carton of icecream, but I only had those small single serving ice cream cartons and that was already half empty, but I stuck my spoor in anyway but then I noticed some rice in the corner of my eye and changed my mind, maybe I will find the meaning of life at the bottom of the ice cream carton after I eat some rice, but rice takes so damn long to cook! 20 minutes! Can you believe that? It’s the 20-fuckingeth-first century and no one’s thought of a quicker way to make rice and then I sat waiting for it to cook and I thought of the poem “Waiting for Godot” and really related to the characters. Then I thought that the bottom of a beer bottle might have the meaning to life in it, because I swear I heard a song that said that somewhere so I decided to get a beer, it was my boyfriend’s last one and I don’t even like beer, but this was a desperate time so I figured I needed it so I took it out and tried opening it with an opener but it wouldn’t line up in any sort of way that would come close to working so then I peered closely at the top and I made out the words “twist” and I thought how is a drunk person going to possibly see that? And I thought it was very bad marketing savvy on the side of Trader Jose’s Premium Lager and what the Hell grocery store has their own beer? And the beer was nice and cold, even though it tasted gross and then the microwave beeper went on and I was so happy that I hadn’t killed myself before I got to eat my rice, but then I opened the microwave and the rice was all hard and crisp and burnt and then I cursed myself and thought there’s no way I’m fucking going to wait another damn 20 minutes, I could just eat Cup of Noodle in three minutes, but then I thought about Darwin and that maybe I was too stupid to deserve dinner so I sat back down to my beer. I thought if only I had cooked it on the stove like my boyfriend had taught me, or if I had checked on it, this wouldn’t have happened and maybe I’m always in a rush, always looking for the prize at the end of the rainbow and maybe that’s what I’m doing right now with the meaning of life, when it’s not for me to know, and then I shivered because I thought I almost sounded religious and thought fuck that, I deserve to know why I’m doing this bullshit, why I’m living in this sphere and then I asked my beer, but it just stood there all cool and collected-like and then I cursed the beer and wished I was it. Beers don’t have to worry about the fucking meaning of life. And then I wished I had a really bust a new buttcrack up movie, but all I have is fucking Disney movies, which used to make me happy, but don’t do the trick anymore, maybe I’m growing up or something, don’t grownups just find meaning in sex? But I don’t like sex and maybe that’s the problem, maybe I’m a lesbian, maybe I should get a sex therapist and see if she can make me like sex and maybe that’s why my life feels so empty because life is fucking me and I get no fulfillment out of it. Well, I am just going to get drunk baby disgusting sip by baby disgusting sip and hopefully I will find the meaning of life before I vomit. Then I watched the Office on Netflix, that’s a fucking hilarious show, even in the face of the question of the meaning of life so that made me laugh, but after two episodes I was tired of it and the question was still looming like a black cloud over my head so I figured I’d hide from it in my bed. After 12 hours of blissful sleep, I woke up, but that damn question hadn’t gone yet, so I went back to bed, then after 6 more hours, plus the 12 makes 18 hours the question appeared to be gone, but just for good measure I smoked a few leaves and drank a sip of beer. I’m feeling ok, so maybe the meaning of life is sleeping, or at least you can hide from it in your bed until the question leaves.