To give up this world, this chaos so near and dear to me, to give up this daily subscription to an idealist’s self-torment that has cost me so much! This is my struggle, passing my Sisyphus stone under the thrashings of time while being myself rolled over by it due the self-obliterating gravity of my selfhood!

I, like our kind, roll my stone from dawn to dusk, this garbage pile of ideas, titles, and opinions like a label and a brand and as an organic billboard, my shackles, so to be distinguished and stood out, carrying around your superior views and privileged entitlements like a pet, for I must be someone, I must have a face and voice, and do so as I am vainly struggling, nails deep in dirt, to pull myself up against the winning force of brute existence which is constantly dragging me down and devouring me alive and bit by bit, squeezing me into the other side of existence, into total anonymity and formlessness. This human existence, this form and this veil! This is the cost of knowledge, of throwing away anonymity.

To give up this world and this struggle! This is my struggle.