Meaning of Life

Does there have to be a meaning?

A tale goes like this:

A man goes on an expedition in a forest that has recently been painted with a carpet of snow. He is attempting to catch food along the way in order to eat or store. But before he truly begins – his carelessness leads him to fall off a ledge – breaking his legs.

Finally, a rescue helicopter retrieves him from the forest and flies him to a hospital but just as he drifts over the blinding white sheet of trees he remembers what he was supposed to have done and how he failed doing so.

I hate this story because it’s as if the man needs proof to be alive and looks into the past just before death.

It’s ‘kinda stupid.