Existentialist philosophy has always been unreadable to me. I have always ascribed to Aristotle’s description of the mean and hoped to not be functionally evil. In reality, modern life leaves little room for the valiant or bold. The things I’ve enjoyed, people I’ve known, and places I’ve been all seem to have faded away. I regret very little I have done as a venture and do not miss the things and people that have passed through my fingers. My memory of those things is solid, and the part I played in them like passing through a script unnoticed. I have missed very little in life, and in living I hope that I leave very little to be missed. Modern life is slippery and hollow, but I am proud of the one I’ve lived.
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