This bizarre thing called existence

Although this is a quasi-solipsistic blog, I cannot help to notice, here, in my solitude, certain generalized and strongly internalized narcissistic and pointilistic tendencies in the thinking habits of certain authors writing on topics related to the experiential space of young contemporary Romanians. It makes me understand why I quit this kind of discourse some time ago. The fundamental incompatibility between it and the honest discourse of analytic philosophy is delineated now in me with such a strength that I feel a deep mutation in my interiority has occurred. As with all phenomena, there are advantages and disadvantages, but I strongly feel that the toughest provocation in one's intellectual existence is to tackle the big questions, the fundamental queries of mankind, and to come up with a personal view on the issues with any price. A view that translates your deepest inner intertwinings between ideas and life, a profoundly sincere view. You don't lose the pointilism that way, you integrate it as a mere insignificant, secondary tool, an epiphenomenal aid in the service of the big project. This is what maturity means. And maturity reverses the world, a thing hard to deal with in one's interior, generating anxieties and paradoxical reactions to be integrated with the price of occluding inner happiness and peace, but with the effect of a multiversed exteriority, optimally fit to deal with this bizarre thing called existence.