Most of the people reading this blog lead comfortable lives, I certainly do. Just by having a private computer and an internet connection, a certain economic stability seems presupposed. Urban city life is an easy, streamlined one. But it is also dehumanizing. You can do most of the things you need without leaving your home. A relatively painless dayjob can be secured and one can find themselves supporting their existence indefinitely. The job might wound their pride and they might not be fulfilling any other essential instinct but that of survival, but it seems safe, and safe is difficult to stray away from, although it doesn't feel great, it feels, okay... It seems that early life is channeled and controlled and goals appear to be set without your consent (those of academic accomplishment and whatnot) and once all this runs its course you are left there in the middle of your young life, around 20, 25 without any definite goals set by others and you have to decide what you are willing to risk for a more essential life. There is no more 'leveling up' to do on the course set by some elder constant rule-set, you have to change genres, it's no longer an RPG, it is an adventure.
Self-actualization in the midst of ease of sustenance is elusive. We want a lot of things but our willpower isn't enough to go after them. A lot of the time we are left with unrequited dreams lingering in the back of our heads for many years. There is a specific point in life when if you haven't gone after a particular dream, it appears almost farcical that you ever had it, taunting you with its impossibility. Inching towards that point, we feel a peculiar combination of shame and pride in still indulging ourselves in its fantasy. There is no deeper concept or anything more fanciful to this comic than an illustration of this.
Oh, also, last panel: that is my room. Also, a few panels above, that is my kitchen (and cat). You have metaphysically visited my house now. You were good guests.