The Scientist and the Rat, but one

I am:

• A moving lump of meat, programmed with the generic aims of survival and proliferation of my kind. Equipped with biological urges that ensure my every action are made with the sole purpose of achieving these goals, my existence, as such, has no real meaning or purpose. Like a leaf falling in a forest, it just happens.
• Simultaneously, an emotive Human. I love, anger, feel happiness and sadness, which at the same time I know to be the little voices telling me to survive and proliferate. Yet I feel this, and being Human I cant ignore them. To give up feeling would be to give up my humanity, and my hollow lies and artificial purposes that fill my 'life' are just too damn fun to give up.

My existence is meaningless and unnecessary. But it can get pretty amusing with some self constructed (yet equally pointless) purposes and some empty lies.
I live my life as a story. I lie to myself, to make it bearable.