I understand all the notions of brain chemistry. Too much of this, not enough of that, etc. Our brains and bodies are, basically, one big cake. Sometimes that cake is delicious and other times it’s juat a hot mess that you’re eating out of sympathy for the cook all the while thinking that there’s not enough insulin on earth to get you out of this soon to be happening diabetic coma of sorrow.
But let me tell you how I really feel. In the darkness there’s nothing to offer hope. The old ascetics should have lived in the modern era. They’d never have had to head to the desert to be truly alone–all they’d have had to do was stay in their house.
Come to think of it they could have done that back then as well. So why head into the desert? Dramatic effect?
What’s the point of misery if no one knows about it?