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I just read your story. I program a lot. I also write a lot. Language facinates me. Here is what this was for me, even if its completely wrong:
It is an algorithm you wrote yourself, an algorithm you wrote to solve a very finite problem, but you made a mistake in the syntax somewhere and it errors out. You trace back through it. It should be easy enough. You wrote it yourself. But somewhere along the way you start to lose track of what the variables are being set to, and you start to mix up the values. You get lost in your own creation, and you forgot how you go there, so you start over. You trace through it again, but this time you work yourself back to a completely new beginning. How is this possible? You restart. You go back through the loop. The same problem. You suddenly stop. You aren't examining a program. You are examining your life -- a problem that always ends in death, the ultimate and unavoidable return value of life() -- a constant. You tryed to go back through the solution, your day to day existence, but along the way you realized that it was all mixed up, a confusing haze of memories and decisions and failures. You tried to trace back but realized it was impossible, the past was past you. No matter how many times you tried to go back through the loop you discovered a new way of living -- an infinate number of solutions to an unchanging answer. You have only one option.
Insanity.
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Solve two problems at once. Feed the homeless to the hungry.
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