A night thought

For months I have spent my life dreaming of attaining a sense of self-sufficiency among my friends. For months I have spent my time communicating with the opposite sex, trying to find someone close to me. I am tired. I no longer see any meaning in this wandering. Love cannot be obtained through searching and effort; you cannot find the person of your dreams simply by sharpening your intellect. At best, fate grants us only small shavings of joy.

Why study, develop, and rejoice if the day passes and nothing remains inside you? If even the happiest day brings no genuine happiness. Is my whole life nothing more than a game of dice? A tiny spark of hope that I might one day find a person who could become the meaning of my life.

Logic tells us that if you do not strive, you will never achieve anything. Understand me correctly: striving does not guarantee success. Yet the absence of striving almost certainly guarantees failure. That is the entire dilemma.

So does it mean that the only meaning of life is hope? A tiny chance of attaining some utopian happiness, a hope for a cruel miracle? And is that truly something worth living for?