From all of the dark, militaristic, morbid, violent, depressed, anxious, etc. things I’ve seen in life, there is a feeling and mental image that I associate with their extreme — the lowest hell, if you wish. It isn’t the usual fire-and-brimstone or sadistic concepts of hell, which seem too active and not yet at a self-destructive conclusion to me. Imagine a desolate wasteland, similar to the landscapes of Mars or Venus, covered in light brown or reddish sand and stones, but there is no water and no plants will grow. The sky is brown, pale red, or black, like there might be a sun up there somewhere, but it is always hazy, overcast, or not visible. There is an appeal to this place, like it is a relatively relaxing or accepting common denominator for anger and struggle. Everything one could fight against has been destroyed there, sometimes there is stillness/rest, and anything new that arrives there must be destroyed and become like the stones. There is a dull or slowly grinding pain that never fully goes away, like a sinus headache.
What I learn from this feeling and image is that this is where one’s mind ends up, if one always dwells in, embraces, enjoys, relishes, etc. struggle and conflict. It’s not a good place, and suffering doesn’t end there. Please don’t go there.