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I remember once being told that Camus said the most important question in life was why not commit suicide. It has been too long ago for me to remember if that proved true. I only recall not agreeing. What a grim take on life.
For me the great question is why I don’t follow the dictates of reason more. Not in every respect: no illusions of being superhuman here.
I’ve done little to improve my life of late. There are things I must do if I’m going to meet anyone, even for casual play.
So I feel bitterly irked with myself. There’s no excuse. Charles is too long gone. Time is for me to be living as I did before I met him.
Inertia - the resistance to change, to modifying habits seems in itself a damnable pernicious thing. And I seem ruled more by inertia than anything else.
The cure? I don’t know.