I am trying to write out all the bitterness lying in my heart. I feel all of the sudden as if I have nothing to believe in. My faith in God and country has been shorn. I feel as if I have no allies, and am completely surrounded by enemies, who would use me as a servant, then scron me, with no reward for my loyalty. I feel like Diogenes carrying a lantern, still searching for that honest man. I knew from the start that such a quest was futile, but five years ago, I did not mind futility. Don Quixote was my hero, and I longed to emulate him, for what is a knight-errant for, but for the undertaking of futile quests? But it is a lonely life. I have no Sancho Panza patiently following me into madness, reeling me back to reality at the last moment. I am merely a dying thing, cold and afraid, and hungry. Yearning. That is the word, and what it is I yearn for I do not know.

I have lost my faith. [Not necessarily the belief that I am meant to live my life in service of others, a life of kindness, generosity, and compassion. The message of the Gospels] are deeply ingrained in me, and I have begun to see the striking similarities to [other forms of spirituality].

Only, I despair, because I do not see the fruit of its practice. No, in my own life, I do see it, though it sometimes wracks my soul. But I despair because I am alone, or at least feel thus. I have no fellow practitioners of the faith. Particularly if you imagine that the U.S. is supposed to be a Christian nation [at least if you believe certain segments of the population instead of the words of the Founding Fathers.] Particularly when you think about the fact that the Philippines is mostly Catholic. In [so many cases], you see zealots parading about, spewing incomprehensible arcane doctrine from their mouths, completely missing [the point of the Gospels and of the Great Commandment], which ultimately, not unlike Buddha, is to deny self [and to eschew vainglory.]