Socrates says that "The unexamined life is not worth living." But then why is it always so painful to carve yourself up during reflection, gouging out all the critical judgments about you as a being, and treating yourself as a disparate entity to be prodded at. I wonder if reflection ever elicits a glow of satisfaction, that stems from the realization that I have indeed run the good race. We all fall short, but to continually feel melancholic about our mediocrity is to indulge in worldly sorrow.

Nevertheless.

This morning I spent time cleaning up my table and thinking about whether I was a good person and a good Christian, although those two are not necessarily interchangeable. And I realised that I'm still very selfish and unwilling to change that. Alot of things are still important to me.

Still.