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I am very aware of leading, for the first time in my life, a relatively perfect existence. Of waking up every morning excited about the day. Of doing the things I wish to be doing, of being on that path which will lead me to the things I want to be doing soon. It is a bizarre and wonderful sensation, and I do hope it continues. My classes are, for the first time in my life, amazingly challenging and grippingly fascinating. I admire my teachers. I enjoy the work. I want to do the homework. I want someone with whom to share this existential delight.

Let it be known that, with absolute respect and utter seriousness accorded all such earlier complaint-statements, and in no way in contrast to them at all, I love my life. I lead an absolutely fantastic, perfect, wondrously magnificent existence. It is said that when one solves any chief problem in his life he will always find another one, however smaller, to take its place and to become his overriding frustration. Obsessive-compulsive I allow overriding frustrations to blossom into maddening quasidepressions. Thus, the frustration of an unsuccessful lovelife is enthroned above all my worries. I have others.
But. I lead the most wonderful life, that aside. I get to do daily the things I enjoy doing most - reading, studying, talking, debating, laughing, exploring, being curious, and arguing. I know interesting people and have fascinating, erudite professors (sometimes). I attend a perfect college with a perfect lounge to satisfy my relaxing needs and a bedroom that cannot be compared to any other in its comfort for my sleeping needs (of which there are many). Lonely, yes, but I have some very wonderful friends who I adore and admire.