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Before we were born, there was nothing but complete emptiness. After we die, it's the same, endless silence. Nothing in the universe has any meaning. Our lives are just fleeting moments in a cosmic void. Morals, love, and beauty; they're all human inventions of our mind to help us cope with the emptiness. Everything we do is ultimately inconsequential. Empires rise and fall, civilizations come and go, but the universe remains indifferent. Nature works without any regard for our suffering or happiness. Disasters strike, lives are lost, and the world moves on, indifferent to our pain. Our existence is temporary and insignificant in the grand scheme of things. We are mere specks in an endless expanse of the universe, our lives barely a whisper in its vastness. Events unfold randomly, without any ultimate order or purpose. Life and death are just parts of an endless, meaningless cycle. Our dreams, aspirations and achievements are all futile.