We humans are nasty, hairy, smelly, pimply, greasy creatures. We live in a world which is nasty, brutal, and unforgiving. Nature does not care if we live or die; the relentless laws which govern the existence of the universe make no exceptions for life which has evolved on their watch. Life is a callous struggle for survival and reproduction, and one in which we humans have had unprecedented success: never before has a form of life had such control over its environment. Out of the rude world man has shaped civilization; but before man could civilize himself, he was molded by the desperate struggle for survival into a violent, selfish being.

Most impressive of the traits which an uncaring nature instilled into humanity is consciousness; and with that consciousness, man may imbue formerly purposeless objects with meaning. As an example, consider a simple tool: a piece of matter with no purpose, no meaning to its existence beyond the simple fact of its existence; yet, when a man picks it up, he gives it a purpose, a role to play in the tapestry of his life. Man's existence, similarly, possesses no inherent meaning; it is man who gives it to himself. Some so give themselves meaning by irrationally presuming there exists purpose beyond the meaningless struggle we observe and were born from as a species; in so doing, they unconsciously endow their lives with meaning. Nonetheless, the fact people may irrationally assign purpose to themselves does not indicate that is the only manner in which purpose may be reflexively endowed; surely the conscious assignment of purpose is preferable to unconsciously and irrationally assuming the existence of some higher purpose where none appears to exist.

Life, then, is nasty, brutish, and short; and humans are thrust into it with only the instincts we have evolved, the talents we possess, and the consciousness which is characteristic of our species. Wherefore ought humans live? In a universe which cares not for the success or failure of an individual, under brutal and unforgiving natural laws, humans can, and must, endow their lives with purpose. Life is nothing but a tool, and the most powerful one a human can posses; to what end it will be used must be determined by the person living it. Alone and without consciousness, life is simply a collection of molecules with the characteristic that it reproduces; but with sapience, meaningless life may adopt purpose, just like any other piece of matter across which a human may stumble.

Therewithin lies the possibility of hope: without recognizing that he may use his life as a tool to his own purpose, a human must needs despair in the face of unrelenting nature; but with the possibility of shaping his life toward his own ends, a human may create his own hope with his purpose. Life is brutal, unrelenting, and merciless, but from it, we humans may create purpose and hope in our lives.