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>There is no meaning to life, there is no meaning in the universe.
Pain has meaning. If I shoot out your kneecaps, that is going to carry some sort of relevance to you. No one's suffering is without meaning, and it is evident that life is rife with suffering.

>Anything that I do won't matter in a million of years, so what's the point?
That is an idiotic frame of reference. Please dispose of it.
You're using a non-human frame of reference to assign qualities to a human problem.

>So, then what is it that I should do?
Aim to reduce human suffering in the world.
A good place to start is with yourself. We are all in the same water, whether or not we are suffering by our own design or because of external circumstance.

You know what to do, Anonymous. There is something you should be doing right now, that you're neglecting, that you've been putting off, that would help you become a better person and improve your own situation.

Don't think it needs to be big either. It could be something as trivial as washing the dishes, as filling out a job application, as reading that book you've allowed to gather dust on your desk.

There is something you can be doing to ensure that, when you go to sleep tonight, you will be in a better position than you were when you awakened.

Repeat this cycle enough, days become weeks, which turn into months. Months to years. You'll find yourself a better person, much more adept and stable than you were before.

Then, and only then, you'll actually be capable enough to make a large, appreciable difference in this world.

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[begin transmission]

I've always believed in you, Louise. 

I knew there was so much more to you, beyond the secondary role others established for you.

You're a force to be reckoned with of your own merit.

Let no one make you think otherwise, not Alice, Reimu, or myself.

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[begin transmission]

Home...

298 days in the field, homesick.

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Shower upon him every earthly blessing, drown him in a sea of happiness, so that nothing but bubbles of bliss can be seen on the surface; give him economic prosperity, such that he should have nothing else do but sleep, eat cakes, and busy himself with the continuation of his species, and even then out of sheer ingratitude, sheer spite, man would play you some nasty trick. 

He would even risk his cakes and would deliberately desire the most fatal rubbish, the most uneconomical absurdity, simply to introduce into all this positive good sense his fatal fantastic element. 

 It is just his fantastic dreams, his vulgar folly that he will desire to retain, simply in order to prove to himself- as thought that were so necessary - that men still are men and not the keys of a piano, which the laws of nature threaten to control so completely that soon one will be able to desire nothing buy by the calendar. 

 And that is not all; even if man really were nothing but a piano-key, even if this were proved to him by natural science and mathematics, even then he would not become reasonable, but would purposely do something perverse out of simple ingratitude, simply to gain his point.

And if he does not find means he will contrive destruction and chaos, will contrive sufferings of all sorts, only to gain his point! 

He will  launch a curse upon the world, and as only man can curse (it is his privilege, the primary distinction between him and other animals), may be by his curse alone he will attain his object - that is, convince himself that he is a man and not a piano-key!

If you say that all this, too, can be calculated and tabulated, chaos and darkness and curses, so that the mere possibility of calculating it all beforehand would stop it all, and reason would reassert itself, then man would purposely go mad in order to be rid of reason and gain his point! 

 I believe in it, I answer for it, for the whole work of man really seems to consist in nothing but proving to himself every minute that he is a man and not a piano-key!

It may be at the cost of his skin, it may be by cannibalism!

 And this being so, can one help being tempted to rejoice that it has not yet come off, and that desire still depends on something we don't know?

You will scream at me (that is, if you condescend to do so) that no one is touching my free will, that all they are concerned with is that my will should of itself, of its own free will, coincide with my own normal interests, with the laws of nature and arithmetic.

Good Heavens, gentlemen, what sort of free will is left when we come to tabulation and arithmetic, when it will all be a case of twice two make four?

Twice two makes four without my will. As if free will meant that!

 Fyodor Dostoevsky. Notes from Underground. 1864.

In short, one may say anything about the history of the world - anything that might enter the most disordered imagination. The only thing one can't say is that it's rational. The very word sticks in one's throat.
And, indeed, this is the odd thing that is continually happening: there art continually turning up in life moral and rational persons, sages, and lovers of humanity who make it their object to live all their lives as morally and rationally as possible, to be, so to speak, a light to their neighbours simply in order to show them that it is possible to live morally and rationally in this world.
And yet we all know that those very people sooner or later have been false to themselves, playing some queer trick, often a most unseemly one.
Now I ask you: what can be expected of man since he is a being endowed with such strange qualities?

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Notes from Underground. 1864.

Will you be my light?
Will you be my strength?
Promise you won't let me go.

Good morning me, did you sleep well?

Did you wake up feeling good?

Do the light and the wind and the smell and the sounds all seem like they're brand new and fresh this morning?

Is each and every cell in your whole body awake and alive now?

Today you are who you are today, see?

You're still me, but you're a newer version: myself ten years from now..

That's so far away it's almost impossible to imagine.

Am I alone, or is there wonderful person next to me?

Well, knowing me, I'm sure you're causing all kinds of trouble for lots of different people..

I'm sorry I don't mean to, but it's all right.

That's part of life too isn't it?

You're not perfect but you've got a lot to give.

So remember: I'll always be cheering you on.

In your time I'm no longer here, but I am here today, and I'll always be cheering for you, right here. Cheering for you: my only self.