Getting Close To What We Cannot Recognize

"What is this thing called life?" shes asks her, as they endulge in conversation. Unable to find the purpose to why they are here in this "life". Realizing that we all just live to die. What is the point to making a difference on another's life, if they too are just living to die. Finding no point to any of this. Life is nothing but a dream? Such reality has never felt so much like a dream or illusion. How are we to know that we are nothing but characters in anothers dream? With everyday that passes such tragedy occurs, but all for what? Death? This all seems so absurd to her. What are we aiming to achieve after we are torn with sadness and dispair or exstatic with happiness and joy? Death? It all just seems so mind-boggling. Do not misunderstand her though. This is not a call for suicide. Simply questions. Questions that will remain unanswered for the rest of our lives. Thoughts.