I've been wondering lately if I'm a horrible person. whether I do really chastise people for their lack of precision or getting their facts right, especially when they come to me with their troubled hearts. whether my sense of being special and my perceived self-singularity is not naturally human but especially nauseatingly my singular characteristic. whether my life alone is not more than just circumstance and chance, and is in fact a judgment on my caustic-ity. i.e. I'm alone cos no one sticks with me.

but worse yet, my satisfaction in being alone, is worse than all above thoughts, more so, when accompanied by all those above; cos it proves them all to be more than conjectures.