“Suddenly, you have doubts. Suddenly you question whether or not everything you’ve done has been one enormous, futile lie. If everything you sacrificed, you sacrificed for nothing.”
— Harry Dresden, Small Favor*
There’s something missing in the world. I believe that all pain is based on this inevitable self-discovery. We try to make sense of that missing hole, to fill that disturbing void in reality with meaning. By trying to make sense of the wrongness of the world, we create an ephemeral part of it. Is this writing? Or just philosophy?
Perhaps it’s both.