All attempts by the “me” to be or become something other than what it is are destined to fail. The illusory self may dream of arrival, progress, or awakening, but it cannot move beyond itself. Even its most profound insights are just empty reflections in a hall of mirrors. The “me” is neither broken nor in need of repair—it is a phantom, incapable of transformation. The futility of becoming is not a mistake but the very nature of the illusion. When the self disappears, there is nothing left to fix, improve, or overcome—there remains only this in its simple perfection.