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Absurdist
I don’t consider myself an absurdist, but absurdism has influenced me a lot. Before I read Camus, I was trapped by boredom and by fear of the unknown. After reading “The Myth of Sisyphus,” my confusion and doubt dissipated. I agreed that the world was absurd, but instead of suicide to escape the irrational and meaningless world, I choose to contradict its absurdity. We all suffer because our desires are not satisfied, our wishes are always fulfilled, and our ideals never realized. There seems to be no meaning to life. But just like Sisyphus, I choose contradiction. That is, I elect to live with a positive attitude. I rehearse the lines of a character thousands of times to fathom the character; I dive into water 23m-deep to break through the extreme; I write ideas sparked by discussions with others; I try new things, like hiking or interning in an archaeological museum. I sing my life, for the joys and tears brought by what I have experienced, for my resistance to meaningless life, and for the fact that I live lively.
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Not an absurdist.