Desolate Night Talks

Chapter 3: A Spiritual Wasteland

The female student’s mental state grew increasingly strained. The pressures of life and her internal struggles loomed over her like shadows, ever-present and suffocating. By day, she studied mechanically in classrooms and libraries, overwhelmed by a pile of papers and assignments. By night, she returned to the shared apartment, seeking an emotional outlet in scattered conversations with the male engineer. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t dispel the emptiness and confusion inside her—as if all meaning in life had been compressed into monotonous words and numbers, while the ideals she pursued remained imprisoned in a cage of reality, struggling but with no escape.

She found it harder and harder to concentrate. Her inner restlessness and depression grew more acute. Often, she would stare blankly at her books for long stretches, sinking into a boundless void, as if everything before her had lost its meaning. She began to question whether the ideals she had been pursuing all along—the yearning for beauty and change—were merely a form of self-deception in the face of reality.

One late night, during a conversation with the male engineer, she revealed her doubts and pain. In a low voice, she asked him, “Have you ever felt like life has no meaning? That no matter how hard you try, it all ends up being futile?”

The male engineer listened quietly. After a moment, he replied in a calm, detached tone, “Of course I’ve felt that way.” He lit a cigarette, the smoke rising slowly in the dim light, blurring his features. He continued, “I once thought that working hard and earning a lot of money would lead to a so-called ‘good life.’ But over time, I realized that no matter how much effort I put into work, the emptiness and loneliness in life could never be filled. Work is just a repetitive cycle of tasks, and my life has become nothing more than mechanical repetition.”

She listened silently, feeling a faint, painful resonance in his words.

The male engineer chuckled lightly before continuing. “This world has long since become a postmodern wasteland. Everyone is struggling in their own solitude. Who can truly save anyone else? Everything we chase—ideals, happiness, success—is ultimately just an illusion. No one truly understands one another, not even themselves.”

“So what should we do?” she couldn’t help but ask, her voice tinged with despair.

“Accept loneliness,” he said softly, as if delivering an answer he had pondered for years. “Accept the meaninglessness of it all. Sartre said that humans are free, but this freedom is an unavoidable burden. We can’t escape the responsibility of making choices; we can only find our place in this wasteland.”

“But… does that really give life meaning?” She shook her head, her mind filled with doubt. “If everything is meaningless, then what value does anything we do have?”

The male engineer was silent for a moment, as if reflecting on her question. Slowly, he said, “Meaning is a human construct. Camus said that we must learn to find our own value within the absurd. Perhaps in doing so, you’ll discover what you truly want—not what others or society have imposed upon you.”

His words plunged her into deeper thought. She recognized the truth in his perspective, but they also left her feeling more confused and lost. She thought back to her once-cherished ideal—to become a writer capable of influencing society. But now, she found it hard to even make sense of her own life, let alone change the world.

During this time, her mental state deteriorated further. She began experiencing minor hallucinations, feeling at times as if she were living in a surreal world where everything around her became blurry and unstable, as if it might collapse at any moment. She didn’t dare share these feelings with others, fearing they would see her as an “outcast” or “patient.” She even wondered whether her struggles stemmed not from the difficulties of life, but from a deeper, existential fracture within herself.

One night, she once again sat with the male engineer in the dim light, drinking tea in silence. The wind howled outside like a mournful song. The night was dark and indifferent, as if the world was utterly unconcerned with their suffering.

Suddenly, she spoke. “Are we living in one giant absurdity? The goals we pursue—life, success, happiness—are they really worth the effort? Or are we just empty shells, alienated by this society?”

The male engineer didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he gazed quietly into the darkness outside the window and spoke slowly. “We’re all bound by the rules of this society, confined by countless labels and values. What we call success or happiness is just an illusion imposed upon us. The absurdity of life is that we’re told to chase meaningless things, yet we must pay the price of a lifetime for them.”

She nodded slightly, her voice soft. “But if we give up those pursuits, how do we face the emptiness of life? Are we supposed to just endure, living in absurdity?”

The male engineer shook his head. “No, giving up isn’t the only answer. The key is to find your own meaning—not the goals defined by others. Camus said that since we can’t change the absurdity of the world, we must try to find our own way of existing within it, even if that means endlessly pushing the stone.”

His words left her deep in thought. Perhaps the cracks and contradictions in life weren’t something she could resolve easily, but she began to realize that the essence of growth wasn’t about finding a perfect answer—it was about learning to navigate the imperfect reality and discover her own place within it.