When I’m unhappy, I feel like I’m doing life wrong. I’d rather be happy. But is happiness the point of life, or is there more to it? If I pursue happiness, mine first then for those around me, is that selfish? But if there’s a bigger purpose, then what about people with Alzheimer’s or dementia who can’t recall recent experiences or make plans?
I don't expect others to feel the same. I have chosen to give value to one over the other simply because I would prefer a world where we collaborate towards collective happiness, joy, and pleasure. I suspect many others believe that working towards the prosperity of the collective will hamper their ability to find personal prosperity, and I simply think they are wrong. I think such a case boils down to chasing momentary pleasure over long-lasting pleasure, because that is my experience with such people.
In a way I believe in tangible karma; those who work to bring pleasure to those around them are occasionally taken advantage of, but more often are given pleasure in turn. Likewise, I've never met a self-centered asshole who isn't consistantly overcome with unhappiness, while almost universally blaming that unhappiness on external factors.
I plant trees I will never get to sit under because I appreciate those before me who did the same. Again, that is no more than what I have chosen to give value to.
But this is a bit of a digression. The reality is these are the wisdoms of my experiences, and I wager there's no universal truths in them. Nothing matters, so I look to these experiences and see that a co-operative, collaborative life looks more pleasurable. So I strive towards one, encourage others to do the same, and refuse to tolerate those that would actively work to steal happiness from others. Yes, I am aware that the inverse is equally true - why is it wrong to steal happiness from others if nothing matters - but this perspective is simply not the one I have chosen to place value on. Arbitrary? Sure. It still represents the best way I've found to enjoy life.