But then I remind myself of the unimportance of all this, of all these words, of all these post modern middle class struggles, of all these people rushing around and complaining. I fondly think of the fleeting times, lost opportunities and how things inevitably keep on going, rolling, regardless of any internal, personal state. And I accept the absurdity of these worries, complaints and dramas. I used to care much about making something out of myself. Nowadays, I have reached peace by understanding the hilarity of all this, and moreover, accepting the inevitable, and somehow, welcomed end.