the more i know, the less i know

i don't know enough. i haven't read enough. i haven't digested enough. i don't reflect enough. i didn't take one single philosophy class my entire education career. i don't do most of the good things that good people do. i've never been involuntarily hungry. i've never known poverty. i don't know what it's like to stare at a bottomless pit, and only to see an avalanche of burdens when looking up.

in short, i am painfully aware that i am woefully inadequate to talk about, well, anything at all. there are much smarter, wiser, just generally better people out there. there are better written blogs, articles, books.

i seem to need to constantly remind myself that in trying to be reasonably better, the only worthwhile measuring stick is myself. other people are nice to have, but in the end, it truly does not matter what others think.

can i live with myself?

am i moving towards a place where i can better live with myself?

when i close my eyes for the final time, can my last thought be a sigh of relief?