>>222534186Good question. Was that way for a long time.
I guess the answer is that there is no goal, no meaning to life, or at least, no meaning to life that is a grandiose, neat narrative arch. Some goals are small, constant and arbitrary, with no end. In fact, if you did have a fixed goal like Guts and finally achieved it...then what? The only certainty in life, the only definitive end point, is death. There's no running from it, just prolonging the inevitable.
Yet.
We're still here. There's something very significant (whether you want to believe in some sort of God or destiny or more emergent meaning due to a happy accident become aware of itself) about this life existing against all odds in the observable universe with it's billions of billions of lifeless planets, and billions and billions of years of history behind us. Most humans to live on this planet have died and are forgotten, their graves and skeletons crumbled into dust and sand, giving way to entropy.
Against all of that, Life itself is meaning. Your life. It's sooooooooooooo fucking unlikely. A diamond in the rough. It is significant. Some people look up into space, which is mostly black emptiness, but are drawn to the small points of light we named "stars". We are akin to them, but with the added dimension of time and self-awareness.
If I knew the meaning to my life, or had some sure-fire goal that, once reached, would justify my life, I would have less reason to live. The fact it's a mystery to me, perhaps even devoid of meaning, is ironically the meaning. Think a bit more about the God Hand and causality/the idea that we're trapped in a rigged game of pre-determined order, observed by beings that hate us and see us as uninteresting, meaningless, predictable units. Then think about fucking Guts, a failed abortion so seemingly wretched and outcast that he's not worth a second thought.
And how much he actively struggles against meaninglessness. He IS meaning, whether he kills Griffith or not.
