I’ve managed to get by all right with…

I’ve managed to get by all right with a chronic depression. But now and then I slip and fall. And in that grim bottom of the pit, the most profound teachings from the most enlightened teachers come to seem so irrelevant. The highest value I could imagine to aim for in life comes to seem so foreign, like a stranger that has nothing to do with me. In those moments everything loses meaning. One singular thing is left, and wanting: something very personal.
What matters to me most concretely.
What is closest.
What is most intimate with me.

What?

How could every moment of my incredibly boring, monotonous, insubstantial life be about anything other than the search for this? Just necessarily, automatically, without any deliberate design on my part. And most of the time, without my knowing it.