What Is The Meaning of (My) Life?

I don't think I have a real answer for this prompt. This thought would come across my mind almost everyday, but I would never have a true answer for it. I used to think that we (humans) all live here with a purpose and a reason. In a cheesy way to look at it, we all are here to help each other and support each other.

But, I see apathetic people daily, living their lives without any worries. Maybe it's selfish...But what's wrong with self happiness? Maybe happiness is the true meaning of life. But I don't think temporary bliss like The Stranger is the key to life. I feel that in order to truly enjoy life, one would need to give back the same amount tht they take from the environment and society. Whenever I give back, I feel more human ad find more enjoyment and meaning. Maybe because I know I can never satisfy myself and be completely content with whatever I have; I know I will always constantly want more.

Some people feel that tangible objects are what motivates them to continue living. I don't see life that way. I would never want something perishable to be my motivation and sole reason to live. Some people feel that their lover is the meaning of life, but I don't feel the same.To me, the experiences with emotions, whether sweet, sour or bitter, is the key to love. To be able to feel, cry and laugh. The moment I can no longer feel pain is probably the moment I die, internally and externally.

Sir Ken Robinson and his views on education, creativity, and the diversity of personalities and "purposes" needed in human's ecosystem. Something to chew on.

Does Candide Deserve His Punishments?

I think Candide deserves most of his punishments that happened throughout the book. Sure, many of the times is he naive and innocent of which "crime" is actually wrong. However, I feel like if he was not punished the first time, he would never know the difference from what is wrong and what is right.
I don't think his innocence and ignorance gives him an excuse to kill people. And he didn't even kill just once. He killed three people. I'm sure he is well aware that killing people would be wrong since he repeatedly saw the misery and the horrors of dying and death.
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Edit:
I started thinking later about the post I wrote...and the difficulties and punishments he had to go through, which seemed like a reflection of some of the harsh daily lives people go through. Do people really deserve to be living in the dumps- even if they did something bad? What if the crime was something "trivial"? How can we judge what is trivial and what is not though?

How Do I Know What I Know?

From my early years to now, I've always been a curious soul, constantly on the hunt for new knowledge. I constantly want to know what, where, when, how and why anything occurred. But at a certain age, around 13 or so, I started to become afraid of new knowledge. What if everything I knew was lies? I would always question myself. Just because things had a source, the knowledge was always told to me. I either read it, heard it, saw it on a type of media. Facts were always handed to me. Things were always black or white when they were presented to me. Rarely, they left any gray area. Then, how do I know what I know?

Maybe I can trust my own senses on simple tangible objects like tables, chairs, books, and etc. I know my five sense react to it. Therefore, I know they exist. But what about intangible ideas, like death, love and freedom?

I've never died before, but I heard of other people dying, I've been to funerals and witnessed the after death. How do I know it's painful if I've never experienced it before? If an idea is constantly told to you, even if it is a lie, it becomes your truth, like how everyone tells me death is horrible, gruesome, painful and frightening. Is this what I should and would be feeling when I die? How can I tell?

What about love? How do I know when I'm in love? How do I know it's not the food I ate that morning that made my stomach flip or if I have a cold and that's why I can't speak? Maybe it's the running prior to seeing a person that was the cause of my heart rapidly beating. How can I know what love is just from the descriptions by others?

Freedom. To most Americans, it seems like a normal everyday word to describe our everyday lives. Our country was based off of this word. But what about other countries that are not as fortunate? Like China or North Korea. How do they know what exactly freedom is if they never encountered it or seen others that are set free? It reminds me of the zoo. Most animals were born in captivity; they wouldn't know how the wild looks or feels like. Most animals at the zoo is having a stable, nice life with food presented to them, a roof over their heads and things to entertain them with. How would they know if that is not freedom?

So, how do I know what I have now is freedom? How do I know I'm not deprived of anything more? How do I know there is a such a thing as true love? How do I know I've felt it? How can I tell? How do I know death is real? What if it was just a lie?