He’s pretty sure they’re not quite in the last days yet, but he’s already seeing signs of it creeping into the corners of the world he lives in.
There are people becoming lovers in a horrific, twisted way, where nothing else matters to them but whatever they’ve fallen in love with. (And he only uses the word ‘fall’ here in conjunction with this kind of ‘love’, because it’s a downward spiralling hole that’s difficult to get out of without help.)
They fall in love with themselves, in the greatest form of selfishness, even though by doing so automatically undermines their self-worth by perceiving it to be greater than it really is.
They will fall in love with money, which is one of the most promiscuous things to love. It never stays with one person for long, and only offers a false sense of love and security.
They will fall in love with all kinds of pleasure, and ultimately bring themselves none by getting lost on the way.
He refuses to fall into this kind of trap, so he doesn’t complain about staying inside the house of suffering for now, where he at least knows where his feet are.