I'm back on the grind.

Work waits for no one, or whatever they say.

I find myself thinking of the injustices of the world. Why do some people get to be born into luxury while others are born to squalor? There is no reason, of course; There is no meaning to life or to existence, it simply is. Still, I'm only human, and as such I do recognize the role that I play in this cycle of life and death, but also in the smaller, meaningless societies we build. These injustices are the result of countless decisions by countless humans before me. My own species has doomed me to a life of comfort, while it has cursed others with death upon birth (or worse), and others yet with luxury and excess beyond measure.

It could've been different. It still could be made different, surely.

A truly selfish life is one in which one has no qualms about imposing their will upon others. I believe this is the best way to live, perhaps the only way to truly live well; All we can do is hope that what we wish ends up being good. Perhaps because there are so many horrible things that can be thought, however, it is too dangerous a mindset... I wonder. Maybe that's what's lead to this tragedy.

I wonder how many people get to live fulfilling lives. I guess that struggle actually contributes to fulfilment, but the devil is in the details: what kind of struggle? This reminds em of ToraDora, once again. Struggle in love... Maybe that is the ultimate sort of struggle, and the true engine behind human fulfilment. That's certainly poetic! Then again, there's people that dedicate themselves to a craft and manage to live perfectly fulfilling lives nevertheless; Perhaps that is love of the craft. Love then, is the ultimate reason for life.

I'm starting to sound like an Archbishop of the Cult of the Witch, huh...

I wore my black trousers today.