When will the questions stop, when will I be satisfied with who I am, and why?

Myself? Others? Who am I trying to please? Friends? Mentors from my pasts? Important personages wandering in my thoughts? Who am I trying to please that these questions murmur in my mind’s meanderings, popping out whenever I try to justify myself?

Suppose that I am virtuous, a person who performs what he preaches; a person who preaches a morality of no little substance; neither great paragon nor whatever she is not. Suppose…

Adrift, somehow, somewhere, beyond the history whose knowing shows how I got here; that there are many other ways I might have gone. My self, an accident of some history, some fate; some fate, some destiny with any sense or purpose…or more a mere happening?

What difference, I ask. Seeking perfection, perhaps, but finding it was lost…Trying to be profound in a mundane world, struggling to be honest with my self, leaves virtue having to take care of itself. Perhaps I will discover virtue in the living and doing? Be kind, be good, be strong, treat others as oneself…!

Perhaps…