There is no right way to do a thing; there is only doing it and not. That I could even carry this thought revealed to me that I had not yet given myself up in full to nihilism, to the apparently unrestrained chaos of the world. Living was not impossible, no; it was difficult. I knew this. I had thought it before, but every thought requires repetition, as it takes time for the grooves of our fundamental beliefs to fully form.
Ideology as practice.
Losing hope upon continued absurdity
