There is something unbearable about the Lacanian teaching; something that makes you want to turn away and flee, or at the very least forget.  It is not his opaque style, though that style performs the very thesis he wishes to articulate.  At its heart, the core Lacanian teaching is that there is no cure for existence, that the horror and dissatisfaction we experience in existence is a structural feature of being a speaking-being rather than an accident that befalls some.  Our introduction into language produces an ineluctable fissure within our being, generating a structural loss, forever fracturing jouissance, condemning us to be creatures of desire and drive.  Desire becomes a hole that can never be filled, that pervades every aspect of our existence, and that haunts the entirety of our world and social relations.  Everywhere we see cries raised to heaven, striving to treat desire, this fissure, as an accident