*I am using the word “choice” here, even though one might quite plausibly suggest that my finding X meaningful isn’t always a matter of my choosing to find X meaningful—it might often be that I find X meaningful just because of how I am constructed or because of my personal history. It isn’t entirely clear to me that a personal history that included belief in an intrinsic purpose of the universe would be guaranteed to make me find life more meaningful than otherwise; I will grant, though, that human beings often seem to derive comfort from the feeling that although they may die, they will not have lived in vain. Yet, anyone who helps someone else or who does anything constructive or beneficial to or for anyone will not have lived in vain.

Far from liberating, I find such a view stifling. In fact, when I held to this view, all I did was stay in bed all day. Consciousness angered me. I could not bring myself to simply live as though life is meaningful though in fact it isn’t, which what existentialism amounts to: utter despair or self-delusion.