Sometimes we figure out what we should do by doing what we shouldn’t enough times to get sick of it. You know how it is. We kiss that fire and walk away whistling enough times we’re gonna eventually chap our lips and lose our tune. I suppose that’s part of the existential struggle—that we gotta go deep enough into the pain to recognize we can’t bear the existence. Far enough into the dark to come out the other side and see the light.
