A philosophical meditation written from Sisyphus’s perspective.
I stand atop my mountain, watching my boulder tumble down once more. A moment of respite. A moment of reflection.
Before my curse, I took my thoughts for granted. But now, as an immortal being with infinite time, I find joy in each individual thought.
I have become fully conscious of my eternal meaninglessness. The horror that initially accompanied this realization has transformed into something else entirely. Through acceptance, I discovered freedom.
Hope is a lie. Purpose in the traditional sense is an illusion I no longer need.
Instead, I find meaning through the act itself rather than any ultimate goal. The roll of the boulder, the strain of the muscles, the journey up the mountain—these are enough.
Camus called me an “absurd hero.” But I wonder: does finding meaning through meaningless action constitute true freedom, or merely another form of self-deception?
Perhaps it doesn’t matter. The question itself is part of the absurd condition.
The Descent
As I begin walking down to retrieve my boulder once more, I am reconciled with both my burden and my existence.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
But more than that—one must imagine him thinking, questioning, engaging with the absurd even as he accepts it. That is the true rebellion against meaninglessness: not the rock, but the consciousness that accompanies it.