WANT WORM
Today, after reading in A Sense of the Mysterious, it seems like I’ve been shortchanged. With so much intelligence in the world, why don’t I have more? For that matter, why don’t I have more physical ability? More creative resources?
I resent that I have been slighted. Is this niggling longing to be more intelligent, more physically capable, more creative wrong? Is this arrogance?
Is this an evil aspect of my nature? That enough is not enough. That limitations are too many.
The tug is toward dislike for myself. As if there are no things to like. I seem to turn a blind eye to what’s good in life, my life.
Is my aggrieved attitude a sign of narcissism? Who am I to question my place in the world? I don’t want to be a person who doesn’t appreciate my life.
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