I've been in an epic internal battle all this week. It still rages in running foot battles. Epic, but not dramatic. I want to say I'm stressed, but I'm not stressed. I want to say I'm not stressed, but I'm stressed.

I'm in an existential space where there are no absolutes. There is no life, no death. There is no suicide, no no suicide. But it has to come down to what I'm going to do on this physical existential plane. Am I here on it? I am on it, and I'm not on it. That's where I've been functioning all this week.

I'm conflicted, but I'm not conflicted. I'm not conflicted, but I'm conflicted.

The next window hasn't opened yet, but it will soon.

I made an overture to my old job.

Even if I make a wondrous life-affirming decision to not commit suicide, . . . um, I'm still gonna die. Living is not an answer to my problem. It doesn't matter whether I live or die, but I still have to make a decision on this physical plane of existence, and even if I decide not to commit suicide, I'm still gonna die. A decision to not commit suicide doesn't mean I'm not gonna die. What the hell is wrong with people condemning suicide when they have no idea what life or death is?

But I'm not concerned with other people. There are no other people. And there are no answers. Just what am I gonna do?

I read "The Alchemist" recently. It was recommended to me. If I had read it a long time ago, it might have had a bigger impact, but at my age it's all old news. Doesn't come close to my metaphysical staples: The Little Prince, Illusions, and The Character of Rain.

Actually, I call The Character of Rain by Amelie Nothomb my favorite metaphysical book that is not about metaphysics, but then I found the original French title is translated The Metaphysics of Tubes, so what do I know?

The French title, I suppose, is a reference to humans as tubes, food going in one end and out the other. The English title is clever because, set in Japan where Nothomb spent her formative years, the Japanese word for rain is pronounced "ame", the first part of her name.

The Alchemist didn't do it for me because I just didn't relate to the main character's journey. It didn't apply to me. Furthermore, elements, metaphors, and story arcs didn't resolve. And finally, the treasure he finds in the end is actual wealth. Arguably non-metaphorical wealth. Follow your heart, follow the omens, and you'll get RICH! Yay! And laid. Bigger Yay.

I joked before that the problem was that no one dies in The Alchemist, but I'm starting to think the greatest richness in life is set against and in conjunction with death. My appreciation of The Little Prince is probably because of the metaphor for death when he "returns to his planet".

Although that is apparently not a metaphor everyone grasps or accepts. Many people seem to miss the importance of that point or interpret in their own way for their own purpose, fair enough. It's regarded as a children's book after all.

My argument is that's why the author is so distraught when the titular character leaves. It's not like he got so attached to the little bugger in such a short period. He's going back to his planet, celebrate and be happy.

No, he's distraught because the Little Prince's "death" is a metaphor for real death. His planet being right above is a metaphor for his time has come. You tell your children he's gone back to his planet, but for adults it's a teaching on death.

And I don't think Illusions would have the same impact without the performance of death presented to hammer in the teaching not to be fooled or affected by appearances.

Even The Character of Rain looks death in the face from the perspective of a 3-year-old, albeit related by Amelie Nothomb as an adult.

It's been a difficult week, and a routine week not having a job or friends or requirements or responsibilities. I listen to my internal demons and internal superman having it out and I don't know what the outcome will be. I'm rooting for my internal superman to help me realize the obvious and what I have to do.

I've had insomnia and I've drowned in sleep within the past few days. Something makes sense in all of this. Something has to come to fruition. I've been lost in enjoying music which is my primary joy these days. I've gotten obsessed in downloading music while realizing I can't get attached to this or it will be the true death of me.

I'm waiting to see what I will do once the window opens again, fully aware I made an overture to my old job.