Absurdity is the human condition.

I don’t understand where I am, nor do I enjoy where I am currently. However, I don’t blame it on the circumstances, but rather on the mirror that reflects such circumstances.

Actually, I don’t blame it on anything. It’s just something that is—something that is happening. That is life: something that happens, and we interpret it as conveniently as our hearts can bear, as our minds can understand.

The truth is, it cannot be understood, nor is it made to be understood. I have realized that I function a bit better when I understand myself, yet I function best when I don’t attempt to understand, but rather to experience.

Manifestation, goals, purpose—all of which are things we fill life with. Nevertheless, life is not empty to begin with; however, it does not have inherent meaning either. Must we dwell on it? Must we make the impossible possible with our tiny human minds?

Or must we live the absurdity of the soul—the freedom of experience, of not explaining. Of being, of becoming, of not becoming altogether.

Nothing matters if the ego is not included; perhaps that is why we cling to it so much. For if we let it go, we are no longer inside our head, but rather in the cold, raw present. Nothing truly matters if it isn’t some sort of illusion of identity we seek.

Camus was right—absurdity is the human condition.

Now what illusion do I seek? The illusion of being this and that—of being a millionaire, of being an important individual, an influential person, of living to my highest potential. But there is no highest potential; the highest potential becomes the lowest potential once I have reached it.

I have found that things function better when we do not pressure them. And meaning is the highest pressure one can apply on himself, his life, his beloveds. The expectation of fulfilling a purpose that does not exist, putting us in an endless cycle of dissatisfaction.

Absurdity is the truth; it is the highest form of freedom. Who are you? It matters not. What do you do? It matters not. All that matters is that you are, and that you do.

One mustn’t identify with anything, that is true freedom, true detachment. I am nothing; that is what makes me everything.

Perhaps the purpose is to become free of misinformation—the kind that keeps one imprisoned in his own thoughts. Freedom is the highest form of being.

I mustn’t identify with my desire. Once I do, I am downgraded by my own limitation, becoming only one thing.

I am infinite, endless. Desire is not who I am. Desire is what serves me, what pleasures me, but never what identifies me.

I find myself detached from everything. At first, I fought such detachment, such indifference to the outcome. Then I realized it was the default feeling, at least for my own soul.

If I had a million dollars, I would enjoy it, of course, but it does not identify with my soul. Nothing does. Once I have that million dollars, I will enjoy it for a while until I desire something else, because I am constantly developing and meeting higher versions of myself.

Most importantly, I am free. I am happy with the million dollars, happy without it. Sad with the million dollars, sad without it. Indifferent with the million dollars, indifferent without it.

I am my sovereign, and that is the only fulfillment my soul seeks. Individuation is the only supposed outcome of my current life — to meet oneself outside of the ego, outside the shadow, outside of desire, while allowing their coexistence in harmony.

I suppose I am grateful for the void state. I don’t know if I self-induced it or if it merely fell on me—where life feels stagnant, identities fall apart, not in loud destruction but quietly disappearing. Matters begin to lose their meaning; logic no longer makes sense, and clarity makes its subtle appearance through confusion.

Regardless, I am grateful for the freedom it gave me. Especially as someone who reeks of anxiety. But perhaps anxiety is a symptom of misalignment—misalignment with the path I ought to walk, the path my soul drew for my heart: a path of freedom, individuation, and renovation.

I am free.