“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
-Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

Our old kings have fallen on their swords, leaving us with an ungoverned territory to obstruct.
Thus, we wage war upon ideas that we declare into existence so that we have enemies to conquer, justifying an unspecified purpose left intentionally ambiguous for fear of conceding to our endless limitations.
Human nature ensures its citizens cannot escape from the confines of their own limitations, drawing out self conflict until all that is left to command is disenchantment.
We conjure notions of success out of covetous inclinations, only to exist in fear of living without purpose, of never amounting to anything when there is nothing tangible to pursue.
We create success for ourselves out of what we believe will incur the most recognition from those whom we are trying to impress, although we spend a lifetime figuring out who they are and why we give them consequential power over our identity.
What does it mean to succeed?
Does the attainment of an idiosyncratic success allow us to feel a glimpse of fulfillment?
The search for externality continues as we change yet again, forward into time yet ideologically stagnant.