How much changes in a single week. Anticipation has lately been more enjoyable than the real thing. My fault as usual.

Am I really that much more selfish than I used to be? I suppose I’ve always been selfish. Who isn’t these days? (Or is that just my warped perception? A twisted act of sophistry?)

I am beginning to really appreciate what my psychiatrist has pointed out about the ugly desperation of just trying to survive. I blithely wonder if I’ll ever really escape from this mode of existence, always desperately scrambling to claim what I perceive as my fair share. It’s always less than I imagine, indeed, markedly so. I have come to believe that fairness is an exclusively human construction not at all borne out by reality. There is no hyperintelligent superbeing enforcing it. And yet I don’t want to live in such a dog-eat-dog world.

It can’t possibly be right that the only rational act is suicide. My protean brain refuses to accept such an atrocious conclusion. It may well be true, in a mathematical sort of way, but as much as I talk the game, I simply can’t sustain my drive towards self- obliteration. My biological programming is simply dead-set against it.

So what do I do? Swing back and forth like a pendulum until I get too tired to care. The universe, I suppose, will take care of the rest. Entropy always wins in the end.