Feeling a little too happy lately? Think you’ve found some meaning in life? Feeling a tiny bit significant in the universe?
Read The Fountainhead. You will never be happy again.
I wonder whether I will. I wonder when I will regain the courage to finish the book. But I will. So if everyone dies in the end, don’t say a word.
I’ve learned a lot. Mainly, that if I have no framework, keep my phone off and read Ayn Rand all day, I will not be happy. Oh, and if I’ve been screening you lately, I’m sorry. It’s her fault.
I’ve never felt so unbelievably tiny, weak and pointless. I’ve never really been depressed. I am aware that I am a lucky, sheltered bitch.
My dad helped cure my woes with ice cream. I then moved onto higher spiritual levels, such as picking the raisins out of the challah and licking peanut butter out of the jar.
My brother agreed with me that there was no meaning in life. He then suggested I make a purpose for myself by helping him with his website.
My mom was genuinely concerned about me for about five seconds, proceeded to tell me that what I was going through was perfectly normal and finished by suggesting that instead of reading the end of the book I burn it. Then we watched this:
So there may be no meaning to life, but there are still funny videos, ice cream and people who love me. And thinking about the meaning of life is a luxury… right?