It never goes away -- that gnawing feeling that you have made a mistake; that sense that you have hurt someone unintentionally; that awful recollection that life is shallow and you are worth nothing; that incomprehensible vision of meaninglessness.
I don't like feeling that I am a useless creature. I work at overcoming that sensation and contributing to others. But often I fail. Or I am too arrogant in succeeding. Or something.
And then the sensation of anxious pain floods back in. I know it is the human condition. But it is not the best of conditions. Plato was perhaps right in many of his observations-- about life, about purpose, about a proper ending. Thinking and examining does give me solace. But very little else ever does. And the pain will always be there --intransigent, but not triumphant.
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