Imagine a body, a human body, or the body of anything that you identify yourself with. Imagine it being completely naked and exposed. Now imagine that this body is you. You are standing in an empty room that has white walls and is uncomfortably cold. It is also perfectly square shaped. The room has one very large, wide screen on the wall that you are facing. Your eyes are fixated on the screen in front of you. And on this screen all kinds of beautiful imagery is shown on a repeat. You watch every gorgeous scene over and over again, feeling more and more impressed and excited about the world. Every time your favourite scene or image comes up, your longing to get out and see these things for yourself grows stronger. But when you try, when you decide to be anything other than a silent and obedient observer, you become aware that the room you are in has no doors and no windows. At first you try to beat the walls with your fists in a sort of desperation, still convinced that there has to be a way out. But after a couple of tries (Real tries. Real, hard and sincere tries) you begin to perceive that perhaps the things that you’ve always been watching, the beauty that you imagined, is not actually there. Perhaps this room and that screen is all there is and all you will ever have, and everything else is an illusion. It must be, since there is no way for you to get out of your room. It’s when you’ve come to this realisation that the real pain starts to set in. This pain is much worse than the discomfort you experienced trying to beat your way out. That had a purpose, and this new kind of pain seems meaningless. It seems meaningless because you are only hurting and that’s it, you’re not trying to get out anymore and you’ve grown sick of watching the screen, your suffering is all that you have left. And the worst thing is this: you can’t help but feel guilty for ever believing that there was anything to long for.