Solitaire

So this is how it ends. Two years of living alone. All those adaptation (and maladaptations) that have enabled a single, simple existence now face a whole assortment of adjustments.
At this dusky hour on a Saturday in the dying weeks of a summer that once held so much promise I begin to reflect on how things are going. Where paths have crossed and doubled over; how the endless longings and earnest yearnings have transmutated into something I can't recognise. Something I would perhaps rather not recognise.

We are told that life is not a race - but we're sprinting ahead. Perspectives are muddled. The finish line gets blurred into the horizon. Angst and anxiety replace suffering. The umbrella of Weltschmerz shades us from the glare of our own sad reflections that threaten to expose us to the reality outside - the reality of those who truly suffer while we coccoon ourselves inside our fragile shells and worry about tomorrow's worries.

My prayer is for humility. In large doses. Enough to ensure that pride and recklessness don't overcome my feeble, fickle mind. Difficult. Very difficult.