I think often of Captain Starros in “Thin Red Line”, where he says “the hardest part is not knowing if you are making a difference.” You try, you do your best, but sometimes, that makes no difference at all.
I feel so blind. I feel like the world is filled with curtain covered stages, where nothing is shown at the outset, and nothing is what it seems. I have to undergo this endless amount of guessing, trying, failing, learning, failing, then learning more, failing again, then perhaps one day succeeding, because I have propitiated the gods with my pain.
Put another way, I don’t feel so bad, but am remembering the beauty in human beings. I am such an asshole, so often. I don’t mean to be, but it just hurts so fucking much being me.
I’ll get past this. I know I will. It’s just a matter of time and suffering. And that’s something I know how to do.
There are so many good people, so many heroes. We all need to remember them, and forget the fucking assholes who teach us that nothing is nothing and that’s all we have or ever can aspire to.
I’m prepared, I think, to give my life for my work. I don’t honestly know how much else I can offer.
I try so hard, so often, to view life as simple, as something oriented around simple pleasures, and fun, and laughing. I don’t think it is my personal destiny to be able to do that, although I don’t begrudge it to others.
Some part of me wants to die charging a machine gun nest, but the other part realizes my work involves a similar energy, but no outward death at all. I just have to deal with the slings and arrows.
What a fascinating, terrible thing this life is. I would not miss it for the world.