I remain an idiot so that the people around me can be intelligent.

Inadequate, lifeless, and pathetic.

Inadequate, lifeless, and pathetic. These three words seem to encapsulate the essence of my existence at this moment, as if my life has become a canvas painted with the darkest shades of despair. It's as though the universe itself conspires to keep me in a perpetual state of cosmic insignificance.

The relentless pursuit of a job, a purpose, a shred of meaning, has become a Sisyphean task, an absurdity that mirrors the absurdity of existence itself. How futile it seems to strive in a world that appears indifferent to our aspirations, where dreams crumble like sandcastles before the relentless tide of reality.

My recent attempt to secure a teaching position served as a cruel reminder of my inadequacy. The rejection stings like salt on an open wound, a reminder that my skills and knowledge are but grains of sand in the vast desert of competence. It's as if my life's work has been reduced to nothing more than a mediocre performance on a dimly lit stage.

And then there's the silent depression, a shadowy specter that haunts my every step. It's a heavy, suffocating cloak that drapes over my shoulders, rendering each day a monotonous journey through a desolate wasteland of emotion. The world outside may bustle with activity, but within, I am a prisoner of my own thoughts, trapped in a cycle of self-doubt and melancholy.

Escapism has become my solace, my refuge from this harsh reality. In the worlds of media, the melodies of music, or the vivid landscapes of video games, I seek respite from the relentless march of time and the crushing weight of expectation. It's a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of solace in an otherwise bleak existence.

In moments of inadequacy and despair, it's as though Arthur's somber wisdom finds its echo within me. These feelings of being trapped in a world where desires are never-ending and satisfaction remains elusive resonate with his philosophy. Arthur would likely tell me that these sensations are, in a way, a testament to the universality of suffering. He would urge me to consider that life, with its ceaseless striving and inherent dissatisfaction, can sometimes leave us feeling lifeless and pathetic.

Arthur might even invite me to an art exhibit to seek solace in art; in a theatre to immerse myself in the beauty of music; in a library to indulge myself in the profundity of literature. He was very fond of those. In the aesthetics of existence, he'd suggest there lies a brief respite from the relentless demands of life. It's a reminder that, amid the chaos, there are moments of transcendence and grace that can offer solace, even in the darkest of times.

Nietzsche would remind me that these moments of inadequacy and despair are not mere trials to endure but opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Nietzsche believed that the most profound strength often emerges from the deepest suffering.

In the face of these feelings, Nietzsche might urge me to confront them head-on, to embrace the chaos and uncertainty of existence. He'd tell me that rather than escaping into a world of distractions, I should use my suffering as a forge to temper my will. These experiences can shape me, fortify my character, and lead to the discovery of my own values. It's a daunting task, but Nietzsche would assure me that within my struggles lies the potential for greatness.

And Marx. Karl, I feel like he would be grounded in a broader sense of social solidarity. He'd remind me that my suffering is not just my own but is intimately tied to the systemic inequalities of our society. In moments of despair, Karl might encourage me to recognize that the difficulties I face in securing a job are part of a larger struggle faced by many.

He would advocate for collective action, for standing together with fellow workers who share these burdens. Karl might remind me that through unity and a collective pursuit of social and economic justice, we have the power to change the very systems that perpetuate our suffering. In his eyes, my struggles are not just personal but a reflection of a larger societal issue, and by joining with others, we can strive for a more equitable world...

...but all that seems very idealistic fueled by vigor.

I find myself pondering the futility of human striving and the inexorable presence of suffering in this world.

Perhaps, in these moments of introspection, we touch upon a truth about life's inherent struggles, and in that recognition, we find a glimmer of shared understanding amid the darkness.