I’ve realized that life can only have meaning if we, in our heads, have the ability to make meaningful stories of it. It doesn’t make sense, so we have to make it make sense. We have to say there was a reason for that shit friendship, or that lonely, painful year. We have to be able to tell stories. We do it either through religions, detaching ourselves a little bit, or, for me, by finding connections to the stories of movies and books and other people’s lives that I know of. And that’s important I think, because not everyone seems to be able to do it. And if you can’t make sense of your own story, like how the story of a book makes sense, you’ll always be hopeless, destitute, depressed. So I guess this is the importance of fiction for me.
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