Some people believe in the fundamental goodness of humanity. I don’t. That is my problem.
Someone recently asked me why I don’t “get into a relationship” if I’m a little lonely. The problem is, it’s much deeper than that; my ennui can’t be fixed by any woman or by any person. I am dissatisfied with existence and the few possibilities that I can see in it. Or rather, I can’t accept the contrast between what existence claims to offer and what one discovers it really offers, at its core.
Existence offers almost nothing. Not even a conscious self… Certainly not pleasure or — much more importantly — comfort.
It rained very hard in Salt Lake City today, marking the true beginning of the cold season, which I love. I love it because in it I can be, at least a little more than usual, my own comfort. You see, in the cold my warmth matters to me. I can feel and know it and it is pleasant. In the summer, one has to face truth: even one’s own warmth means little.