Dark

I was in a dark place this week. It means that any philosophical thought inevitably came back to the central question: Should I still be alive? And in a dark week like this, I can't answer the way Albert Camus would answer. I don't want to go into details. But I am in a severe delusion about a certain member of the opposite. The way Don Quixote just declared a random farm girl to be his dear Dulcinea and pledged to move heaven and earth for her. Illusion. Utter illusion. And then the Peter Pan diagnosis. Oh. The wonder boy avoid growing up. I have always been avoiding commitment. By saying "No" to everything, I can "keep options open". I am also stuck in Neverland, never get to do anything. I went to the local second hand bookstore next to the library. I had been there before. I had no target purchases in mind. A never-heard-before Lang Leav got my attention. I just randomly thumbed through this Sea of Strangers book... There is one thing you should know about writing. It will…