To put it more radically, the true horror of life, the essence of drama, lies in the lack of dramaturgy. If there were a dramaturge or demiurge, if we (truly) believed that someone else was writing the play, that someone else was handing out the roles, this would mean we would be sure that our existence had meaning, that there was a play in it somewhere. Armed with this knowledge, neither our personal apocalypse nor the shared one is frightening: it’s simply the writing on the wall. But what if there’s nothing written about us anywhere? What if no one writes us? If no one is watching?
We have nothing else to use against the Apocalypse besides our personal history, without being sure that there are eyes and ears ready to hear us out. So we feel our way with words, like children in the dark. The only thing we know is that as long as we are telling stories, we’re alive. Even if they are stories about the end.”
~ Georgi Gospodinov
[Thanks to @belle_kelle for the quotation]