It’s occurred to me that people in general are all narcissistic, in particular those who own blogs, or websites, or who spew out length personal diatribes and epic autobiographies on their websites. If I had the time, money and talent, I’d love to enlist myself in that army, tuck myself gently into their splashy and mundane culture. My disdain for life, the world, the narcissistic beauty of men is apparent not because of its abundance but it’s lack thereof in my own life. My suffering is but my own imagination and my is cage is but my own creation, my simplemindedness and narrow vision is a conditioning of my own life. My nature belies my flaws and I’m quite incapable of seeing past my own self pity and dismal failures. And alas, I sit and weep, because only an end will quench my insatiable thirst for momentary relief, an end not in sight.