Are you in?

A conversation on the meaning (or lack thereof) of life.

Are you in?

I am.

I am out?

You are out.

Who is here?

You are.

...

Why?

Not?

End this.

No.

Why?

There is life.

I don't like it.

Why?

...

It is pointless.

It is beautiful.

I am pointless.

You are beautiful.

How do you love?

What is love?

I was hoping you could tell me.

Love is as I am, as many things are.

But are you not one?

I am one of many things.

Shrinking now, intoxication overwhelmed but yet

belittled by the hugeness of existence.

Do you not shake on the edge of such finality?