I’m pretty sure nothing means anything. I’m not complaining, I’ve just lost sight of why I get up in the morning. My free time is as liberating and eye-opening as my work time is stressful and existentially untenable, which would seem like a wash but it’s actually just exhausting. At the end of the day I’m not really sure if anything I did had any sort of purpose. Years ago I talked with people who were in this exact bubble of consciousness and I remember being baffled as to how one gets to that state.

It’s a combination of determination and fear. When I was a student and unemployed, I vowed to throw myself into any job that gave me some traction. Just set me to a task with tangible consequences and watch out. After a few years of employment, I’ve started to evaluate my surroundings with a bit more critical eye and found that I’ve painted myself into a corner financially and have no visible choice but to stay the course. I’m more dumbfounded than despairing. I console myself with the fantasy of waking up one day with an ounce of resolve and disappearing to Taiwan for the rest of my twenties.

On top of this, my dilemma has already been trivialized by a cultural cloth soaked through with both failed and masterful attempts at depicting this process

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of maturing. I just got to the misery party and everyone’s already tired of talking about it. I’d have to single-handedly create a new era of prose and narrative for anyone to pay attention to my whining.

I don’t know how to say anything that hasn’t been said a million better ways, but what I do know is good video. Like an island savage celebrating toothbrushes and candle holders that have washed ashore as art from the gods, when I’m sitting at my desk in a stress stupor these videos indicate to me that there is a whole other world out there that lives entirely differently. Maybe I should start building a raft …

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