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2007-07-25 - 3:40 a.m.

He was crying on the steps when I walked by his house. He explained to me that he just realized that there was no meaning in life. No greater purpose. He waved his hand at the neighborhood, saying, "All these people are going to die. In two-hundred years, who's going to care about this?"

I didn't know what to say. There's no answer to give, because in two-hundred years, it's true: nobody will care. I said, "Yes, there's nothing that means anything, but have you ever been in love?"

He said she just dumped him, and he sees no point in trying to make things work. It's too hard. In two-hundred years, what will it matter if he lived a rotten life until he was ninety-four, or if he killed himself at age seventeen?

What was I supposed to say to that?

"Don't you want to see what happens"?

"Eventually you'll be in love again, and that feeling in and of itself makes life worth living"?

"Man, you want to make your mother cry"?

I hope so, because those are what I said.

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