Life is an illusion, and how we live and what we do is just utterly pointless. Materialism wraps us in ties stronger than steel. And every new day finds us more deeply in its grip. We try and we try, but we cannot find the meaning to life. Everything is an illusion, and nothing is real.
Or it could be an illusion, and what of it.
Life is for the sake of our 'illusions'. What if that is the meaning of life? To build around you what you can, and what you want, with what you have and what you can make. Some would call it illusion, while I could choose to call that true reality.
Now, what if the truth was supposed to be bare and stark? Empty? Until we designed our meaning for ourselves?