Another Monday, another existential crisis. I woke up this morning, stared at the ceiling, and thought, "Is this it? Is this all there is?" But then I looked out the window and saw the world, and it was still on fire, and I was like, "Nah, I'm good."

As I sat at my desk, sipping my morning coffee, I pondered the meaning of life. Is it just a series of monotonous meetings, or is there something more?

Meaning of Life