If we cannot define ourselves, if we cannot define the
purpose of life, what, then, is the point of living? We are born to live, yet
we live to die. Somewhere in between that we have to find ourselves and try to
make the most out of what we have, before it is all taken away.
Most people are in constant search for meaning, for a reason
to continue living. Many find this through religion, or mainly the belief in
God. By placing their hopes, dreams, and pleas upon the hands of this
supernatural being, they are, in a way, passing out some of the responsibility
of their lives. They would not be able to bear the thought of them failing, and
then having to take the entire blame for it. By placing this responsibility
upon God, they see it as if they no longer have to worry about the result,
because it is no longer in their hands.
We often find ourselves so wrapped up in our daily
activities that we, for a moment, lose focus of what is really important to us.
It is during these moments where we really stop what we are doing and begin to
reflect upon life, society, and often, existence as a whole. Our minds fill
with unanswered questions and endless possibilities, but after a while we snap
out of our trance and go back to our routines.
However, this is not the case of M. Mersault, who is done
with the questions. We have yet to find out whether it is because he detached
himself from them because he could not tolerate not knowing any longer or
because this was simply not the case with him, he is completely uninterested.
"It occurred to me that anyway one more Sunday was
over, that Maman was buried now, that I was going back to work, and that,
really, nothing had changed." (pg. 24)
M. Mersault no longer cares about the past or the future,
the only thing that concerns him is the present. He talks about his mother's
death as if it were something completely ordinary and there would not be a
reason as to why his life should change because of it.
"I tried my best to please Raymond because I didn’t
have any reason not to please him." (pg. 32)
Raymond asked Mersault to write a strong letter to a woman
he thought was cheating on him, and Mersault complied. However, he didn't do it
because he wanted to be a good friend or because he particularly agreed with
Raymond's claims, he did it because there was nothing to tell him he shouldn't.
The simple fact that Raymond had been nice to him was enough to convince him to
do something that would most probably bring grave consequences in the future,
but Mersault could not be bothered.
Although I have some ideals that somewhat resemble those an
existentialist might have, I am by no means anything like Mersault. I would not
be able to have nothing to look forward to, no hopes or dreams simply because
the meaning of life is nothing. We might not know why we are here but the point
is that we are, so we might as well make the most out of what we have because
even though it is not important to the rest of the world, my life is important
to me.