It’s the same… Or much the same… All the time, a life in a loop like some fucking record player skipping and repeating the same notes over and over.
Only, the notes played are a chaotic and discordant mess, a stochastic “masterpiece” composed roughshod from failure, agony, boredom, indignation, and so many more feelings that don’t have names.
Awful ones, happy ones, meh ones. Whatever. This kind of life is a shitstorm, and worst of all is the utter confusion that comes from every attempt to connect. That’s messiest of all.
Is a life without that kind of meaning worth living?