When all is said and done, at the end of the day, all that's going to remain, is hopefully a hand full of dust. That in itself is in a few cases unlikely. Then, what's the point of it all? If all that remains is nothing, what's the point of all the joy, the sorrow, the heartache? Going down this line of thinking depresses me to no end.
Whenever this thought upsets me, I tell myself that in a lifetime, there are some moments that truly take your breath away. They come from nowhere and not always with the people you expect. Those moments are worth all the craziness. All of us have those. We just need to acknowledge it.
There are some moments, which help you create something that stands the test of time at least for a short period(I love old buildings, paintings, temples and sculptures). It won't be everyone who gets to do it, but all of us in a way contribute to the art and the thought that survives. The romantic in me thinks that the muse is always unknown and eternal in a few cases.