All the objects you cherish and obsess about today soon go obsolete. Beauty fades, forms dissolve, relationships fall apart. Nothing stays. You ask yourself: Why bother? Why engage at all? And there is no answer. Only an internal pang responds. A sense of guilt rekindles. Why feel ashamed about being a self-absorbed melancholic recluse?—you ask apologetically. And all there is is the dying echo of your question. Meaningless. Pointless. Nevertheless. And then new questions arise. Are you attached to your idea of freedom? Are you actually free from your need to be free from life’s demands? Are you willing to participate instead of hiding? Are you willing to choose to engage the painful joy of life’s endless motion that goes absolutely nowhere? Endless. Pointless. Nevertheless. The way forward is fearward.