It simmers slowly in the depths of mind, those innumerable inconsistencies, those detestable idiosyncracies, the hobgoblins nibble away at my false sense of security ... and chaos erupts. Doubt.

I must handle it carefully, or the whole mass will fall apart too soon. You could say those feelings of chaos are calls from the soul, stifled into silence by modernity, for greater learning. It is a dangerous path, there are none to follow, always discouraged, always humiliated. It's easy to feel suicidal: my whole cognitive edifice is breaking down. This is the light and the dark: Doubt. From the ruins, from the rummaging in desperation, I will re-create myself.