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Ahh…and here I am today…joining the ranks of human pretenders.  Pretending this is a world worth living in.  Pretending my material comforts make life worth living.  Pretending I want to be here at work with a smile on my face.  I’ve had enough.  I’m ready for an early leave.  I don’t know…maybe the worth is in the mundane, maybe there is worth in pretending.  I just can’t see it.  Cannot anyone explain it to me?

I guess I just wonder if anyone else truly questions whether this life is worth living.  Who are we to judge those who take an early leave?  What do we even really know?

I wish there was a job where I could study old and new literature and art and then write about how it applies to modern life.  I think that job would be the best around.  I think that is my dream job.  And I could talk about politics and law, philosophy and art, religion and culture…you know…the things that really matter to me that I learn.  And to incorporate writing into it all!  I would love it!

I want to work towards something that matters to me, not towards some pointless mundane goal of making some rich person more rich at the detriment to everyone else.  What is the point of freeing our minds through education in the first place, when we merely must learn to conform once again?  What is the point?  To make a profit off of us?  Well rest assured – they have made a profit off me.  I am indebted now for life, or at least the next twenty to thirty years.  Who is out there fighting for my rights?  No one?  No one cares, did you say?  Ohh this is a terribly lonely existence.

I had a dream about Dave last night.  It was myself and some of his friends from high school and we were all looking around for him, saying I know he was just here, this is where he would be.  This is where he should be, all confused and whatnot.  And yet he was nowhere to be found.  It was just like him – nowhere to be found.  Too busy with his glamorous life to be found.

But then who am I to talk, because maybe I am here, too busy with my glamorous mind to be found.  Could it be?  It’s so damn hard to tell.  I just couldn’t tell you.  The present moment is not one of my clearest.  Rather, it’s befuddling confusion that’s taken over my spirit.  It makes me wonder if Stella chooses not to believe in the human soul so that she will correspondingly not have to recognize the incredible suffering this life lays upon it.  I don’t particularly want to make that choice myself, which makes me wonder – what is it about this suffering that I’m so drawn to?  Why is it, if I have a choice to see clearly or to cloud my own vision, that I incessantly choose clear skies and suffering over self-induced cloud coverage?

What is it about this suffering I am so drawn to?  Could it be that in suffering I find truth, which brings me hope among this world of pretenders?  Could it be that in suffering I see light?  Could it be that in suffering I finally see what does make this life worth living?  I just cannot say for sure, but I can tell you I am now feeling better, and I feel I’ve just touched upon something worth seeing.  Something that is necessary for me to see.

My throat is sore and feels raw this morning and my jaw is still not fitting together quite right.  My nose is running, but at long last the tears of the morning have ceased.