This is a song from my heart—a heart that longs to be free. A heart that, despite all its efforts, has never known true freedom.

This is not a question of life, but a question of meaning.

Have you ever woken up in the morning with the unsettling thought: What will I do? When will I do it? With whom? Where will I go? It is difficult to walk without knowing where you are headed, yet constantly telling yourself that you must go somewhere. The problem is not that we don’t know where to go, but that, in not knowing, we keep repeating to ourselves that we must find a destination.

Wanderers, at least, know that they have no destination. But me—I am not even a wanderer. Not even a fool. Nothing. And that is the real tragedy. Because, you see, fools at least have something to boast about: the fact that they are fools.

But what about men like me, who have found no reason to claim their right to life? What should they do?

The real suffering does not come from moving forward without a why. It comes from the idea that we must have one. This endless search for meaning—that is what philosophers call the meaning of life. And notice, it is precisely those who are always searching for a why who suffer the most.

Before you philosophize about something, live that thing. Do not talk to me about what you have not lived. Do not talk to me about the meaning of life if you have not lived. Live first, then philosophize.

And the more we search, the more we stumble upon these philosophers who try to explain life to us without ever truly revealing it. Ah, philosophers… They are butchers. They master this art: always cutting the head off what we want to believe, without ever offering us anything in return.

Let me keep my illusion, rather than stripping it away without replacing it with another.

If you have no absolute truth to give me, then leave me my lie.

But what lie am I speaking of?

I am like most young people, searching for something to hold on to.

And I realize that by seeking truth in philosophy, I have become one of them—
A man without answers.

A word of advice, young man: never embark on this quest, for its only end is your death.

Blessed be music. In it lies the greatest of all arts.