Erassimagio

External voice: Ah yes, the search. The journey merely for itself, how trite. The inner search for meaning, and the importance of the search, is the journey itself because the search always ends up back at the start, here. Thus the search is only for the truly naive and insignificant minds, for they could have bypassed such a waste of time and spent their energies creating wealth within the material world, the ultimate reality. But no, the search must be made, for what, you ask? They're not sure, that's why they're searching, and then there's always some lackluster finale in which the epiphany provides the insight that life is here, in the world, and the angels sing in triumph when the discovery is made. But real humans merely shrug and continue about their business, already understanding that the real world is where the real things are.

Erassimagio

It is not very interesting to read your visual diary that symbolically illustrates the mental journey that you underwent through the darkness of insanity and the loss of reason. Because, nothing actually happened, and as a narrative for me it is simply boring, and a pursuit only fit for self-reflection. And because self-reflection is a waste of energy then the whole illustrative exercise is a waste of energy. Now all you find is that you are unprepared for the reality and clinical desperation of the business of the real world, and that you must learn new things. The empathy and sympathy that so idealistically clogged your neural pathways up until now has yielded a big fat zero of reward, and what is work without reward? Idiocy. The material world is not some Spinozan hypothesis, or some other metaphysical system that may be grasped. It is the experienced world, beyond even an empirical theory, beyond all descriptions to the final point of ultimation, you, here, now. So what are you going to do, go on a little metaphysical journey?