Life itself is a conundrum. We live, we grow, and we quietly pass away. because this end is inevitable, we tend to try and force upon the general population a global answer to the question asked since the dawn of consciousness. "What is the meaning of this personal chunk of time that is our life?" To which I answer this;
Life will never have meaning. Life will never not have meaning. We ride the fine line between comfortable incompetence and uncomfortable intellect. What we fail to realize is that one moral or primal need will ever be the same for everyone, But we do realize that we have to be here for a reason. Or, at least, people choose that as their meaning of life. What I'm getting at here, is that meaning takes infinite forms. No one goal is exactly the same, even if the words are identical. Life your lives to the fullest. Grow. Blossom. Wilt. Start anew. Just don't ever let yourself believe that there is no meaning. There will always be meaning. Subjectivity doesn't necessarily correlate to the truth of the words. Make your own meaning.