I keep trying things that don’t work. I guess that’s how life is, really. Either things work or they don’t. And there’s really no way to know. Except sometimes there is, of course.

How any of us can ever judge anyone else about anything is a mystery. Life is hard. We all are doing the best we can. But instead of empathizing, remembering that we have all been in these same places, we forget. And it makes us all more alone.

It’s easy to be confused by life. We’re walking around in tunnels of darkness. No way of knowing where the turns are. We know they exist, but how many? I try to anchor to the few things I know beyond question. I always thought that list would grow, but it only gets smaller. Who are these people who are so sure of everything around them and everything that will come? Or are those people just better at faking confidence?

As I grope along that dark tunnel, I feel the shape of something and I discover, it’s this, this is what life is about. But it’s fixed in place and I can’t bring it with me. We come into this world assuming life is fair. But it’s not as though anyone told us this was so, so we can’t be too outraged when we learn it’s not.

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