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The case for Busting Inside
The reason you’re depressed and dont know what to do and uncertain and alienated and seeking meaning in politics by becoming a racist twitter account, or by penning a shitty “BLM” sign and putting it in your window out to the streets, on the second floor in a suburb in fucking Denmark, is because you did not bust inside. You are not building a future with her Martin. You’re postponing building a future every day, pushing it off a little more every day, and that’s what’s making you unhappy.
You are biologically going through the process your dad went through at 50, male menopause, “midlife crisis” which is an abyss of lack of meaning after you no longer having children living at home. A terrible modernity problem in itself but that’s not important right now. You’re not 50 right now. You’re 25 or something. 24. Whatever. however old you are.
The idea in your head is that there is a “meaning” hole in you, that there is a valid category called meaning or purpose, which, “having children” is a kind of arbitrarily solution for, some “thing” that just so happens to fill that void — could have been something else, your career or pokemons or warhammer figures or creative fulfilment or becoming a world renowned artists. You think of all of these as being arbitrary solutions for the core…
