There are millions of paths, options, infinite ways to waste a life.

All of them manufactured by something calling itself "mind."

It invents the universe.
Invents gods.
Invents immortality.
Invents you.

There is no mind.
Never was.

Science probes the brain, measures signals, publishes theories.
Nothing solid appears.
Because the searcher is the fiction.

A phantom chasing its own shadow,
then documenting the pursuit.

An imaginary machine trying to correct an imaginary fault.

A solution appears.
Immediately, a new problem is generated.

The loop continues.