Cabal

My horrifying psychedelic experiences make me feel like I’m part of some secretive cabal in possession of the core truth of reality, the utter pointlessness and cruelty of existence.

But this cabal is compelled to keep this bitter truth a secret because it does no benefit to share it, other than causing horror and despair – and they do not have so much hubris that they can’t accept there is a small chance they are wrong and some bold brave saviour will appear some day to present us with a new truth, a happy truth.

As much as they scoff at this possibility they must accept it as just that, a possibility – and in that eventuality, no matter how unlikely, it is also possible that spreading the (unbeknownst to them) false truth of the utter hopelessness of sentient existence actually precludes the appearance of this merciful saviour and may act as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

So this cabal begrudgingly maintains its secrecy despite its desperate wish for all sentient beings to know its truth. Thus stumbling upon this truth and the aforementioned extensions of its logic introduces the piteous sentient being who beholds it to the secret and at once the cabal who holds it. You have become a member of a sect who can know each other only in allusions and hints.