The meaninglessness of existence is suffocating me. I'm just a speck of dust in the grand tapestry of nothingness.
Or, you know, I could be a sentient being with free will and a purpose, but where's the fun in that? What is the point of life, anyway?
The Futility of Human Existence
Our lives are but a fleeting moment in the grand scheme of things. A cosmic joke, if you will. The Meaning of Life as a Joke