You war on so long, you forget what the war is for. Is it mere survival? Entertainment, some sort of mental consumables? Those might get you through from day to day.
What is it you want?
Some sort of wicked and driving hunger for some sort of meaning in the world. A driving force from the mitochondria on up, to give all this meaning.
Is meaning what you want?
What is that anyway? Family, houses, career, mark on the world?
Is that meaning?
Chew at it, gnaw, maybe find a scrap on the bones of your experience. Something there, a morsel of meat on the bones of the world.
Nothing? Really?
Maybe it has been chewed away.
Perhaps maybe nothing means anything anymore.
Or, perhaps, you've attached too much to the search for meaning (whatever that is) and not enough on just living, and let meaning fall where it will?
