These days I'm struggling against the meaningless. Not searching for meaning, but making out meaning. In fact, it's nothing new for me to do it, since I've fought for meaning in my life all the time. All the meanings I’ve made have incessantly slipped away from me, though. Whenever I try to lock the meaning within my store, it gradually disappears as if melted or evaporated in the air. I’ve put my-made-meaning on every meaningless on which I thought it’s needed, nonetheless, there always left nothing. I think I'll have to do the same thing forever and ever, even though it sometimes gets tougher than usual and overwhelms me. Now my days are full of meaningless and I must give them some meaning, any meaning.
If I wouldn’t put the meaning on the meaningless, the Death will do it. Before the Death, all of us are going to hang out a white flag. Only death can put the real meaning on the meaningless, so we’re about to embrace the meaning that the death throws. We cannot not only conquer or defeat the death but also stand against it. If so, do we want to disturb its way and deter the process, then? Even if there’s hope or expectation to discourage the destination in my mind, it doesn’t reveal on the surface. Mine has just been in the realm of the subconscious, recognising as it can be. Even when I’m eager to die, I want to make out the meaning prior to the death. Perhaps do I expect the quasi-meaning I make before death could help me to be pompous in front of death?
Brit…
