Dear, my Mauvaise Foi friend.
Lack of motivation could kill you. I am thoughtfully serious when i say this, Frank. Who said knowing about the existential essence of your life gonna be amusingly pleasant like finding out any other things? When i woke up from an awful dream this morning and found out that i do not possess any inherent point of living, i particularly felt like i was absently lost somewhere. I could not distiguishly grasp my own-self. I am just a present Being in this cosmos, striving for the right path. But there is no such a right path. So i look around and seek for the true purpose. But frantically there is no such a true purpose.
I could get the picture when Albert repeatedly said do not commit suicide, and that i should embrace the journey. But you know what, Frank? that anxiety will not stop. It would haunt us all dreadfully. Fancy material possessions might comfort me for a while, and luxurious bourgeois pleasures might help to calm me a little. It is, however, certain that every mortal being will perish into nothingness.
There is no way we can escape the absurdity. But i could not bravely face this tormented nightmare either. And you frank, yes you! You can stop pretending like you will be blissfully dying in heavely fantasy and hiding yourself behind those bad faith. It makes me sick.
-Solo, 28th of July 2018