The World as Will and Representation

Scene: A Stormy Night and Schopenhauer – Jessica and Sam Discuss The World as Will and Representation

The rain came in slow, steady waves, tapping against the wooden porch like the ticking of a clock. The scent of damp earth and salt filled the air. Jessica sat with her back against the railing, one knee drawn up, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers. Sam sat across from her, rolling a whiskey glass between his hands, the thick, worn book lying between them—The World as Will and Representation.

Jessica exhaled smoke into the night. “Schopenhauer. Now we’re really getting into the cheerful stuff.”

Sam smirked. “Thought you’d appreciate the darkness.”

Jessica huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, I do. I just didn’t think you were the ‘life is suffering and free will is an illusion’ type.”

Sam took a slow sip of whiskey. “I like seeing how people deal with the idea.”

Jessica arched a brow. “And how do you?”

Sam set his glass down, tapping the book’s cover. “Schopenhauer said that all human life is just will—this blind, aimless force that makes us crave, struggle, want. But it never fulfills us. We’re stuck in this cycle, chasing things we think will make us happy, only to find we’re still miserable.”

Jessica smirked. “So he was a nihilist before nihilism was cool.”

Sam shook his head. “Not quite. Nihilism says nothing matters. Schopenhauer says everything does—but it’s all suffering.”

Jessica flicked ash off the cigarette. “Charming.”

Sam watched her. “And you? What do you think?”

Jessica exhaled, her voice softer. “I think he was right about the wanting part. You spend your whole life chasing something—answers, revenge, redemption—whatever it is, you tell yourself that once you get there, it’ll be enough.”

Sam nodded. “And then?”

Jessica took another drag, staring out at the dark horizon. “And then you realize you still want.”

Sam leaned forward slightly. “So what’s the way out?”

Jessica scoffed. “Schopenhauer would say renunciation—rejecting desire, stepping away from the cycle. Basically, becoming a monk and detaching from the world.”

Sam smirked. “You don’t seem the monk type.”

Jessica chuckled darkly. “Not in this lifetime.”

Sam tilted his head. “So what do you do instead?”

Jessica took another slow sip of whiskey. “You stop expecting it to end. You stop thinking there’s some final, satisfying resolution waiting for you at the end of the road.” She met his gaze. “You just keep going.”

Sam studied her, quiet for a long moment. “That’s almost what he meant.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

Sam picked up the book, flipping to a dog-eared page. “Schopenhauer said that art, music, moments of deep thought—those are the only times we escape the will. They don’t satisfy the hunger, but they pull us out of it for a second. Like seeing things as they are, instead of just what we want from them.” He looked at her. “Maybe that’s enough.”

Jessica exhaled, staring at the glowing ember of her cigarette. “So we just distract ourselves with beauty until we die?”

Sam smirked. “Better than doing nothing.”

Jessica let out a breath of laughter. “You’re more of an optimist than you let on.”

Sam shrugged. “Or maybe I just think there’s more to life than the chase.”

Jessica went quiet, rolling the glass between her hands. The rain had slowed. The world felt heavier somehow, but not unbearable.

She glanced up at him. “And if you’re wrong?”

Sam raised his glass. “Then at least the whiskey’s good.”

Jessica clinked hers against his, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips.

“For what it’s worth, I think he was right about one thing,” she muttered.

Sam tilted his head. “What’s that?”

Jessica took a slow sip of whiskey. “Nothing ever really ends.”

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t need it to.