28th April 2005

It's pouring outside, reminding me of the state of my life now:seemingly an outsider wherever I go, forced to spend my last waking hours in darkness, sure that no-one in this society will mourn me if I were to pass from this mortal coil.

Yet, through all this personal turmoil, my life is filled with internally-generated optimism, for I need not have a lover at my beck and call to be imbued with an awareness that life is beautiful; that listening to a simple lilting duet from Mozart's opera can make an entire injustice-filled life seem worthwhile, that people need not be made to understand your contentment with your own life, regardless of how dim prospects seem, that a willingness to leave this Earth here and now is a prescription for a life free from fear of loss, fear of rejection, fear of solitude.

And finally, gratitude for the multitudinous blessings life has bestowed upon me tempers the anger and frustration at the root of my unhappiness.

I give thanks for my good looks, my health, my worn but still sharp wit, my job, my still-intact family, spread though it is over two continents and four countries, my musicality, my still-dogged determination to overcome the odds, my still substantial bank account, my downloaded treasures, my hardiness in a society where I'm perceived mostly as merely a means to an end, my ability to turn my solitude into a boon from a bane, and countless other unthought-of blessings.

Why would I choose to exchange this for a union of moderated conflict of selfishness between two individuals, who feed off each other just because they want to, and may end up bankrupting one or the other, both morally and financially?

Ultimately, I truly believe that one can be content when he is great to himself. That's it: I'm great to myself and that's all that matters.