I was walking through the mall today, when I saw someone who seemed to be alone. His face was ripe with Down Syndrome, and he moved with a air of emotional detachment, as if he had easily accepted the cards he’d been dealt.
Of course, I make no assumptions about his situation. After all, I know nothing about his life, and my pseudo-conclusions (I almost never make definite conclusions) based on purely observation could be completely wrong.
However, it made me realize how lucky I am to not only have a certain amount of intelligence, but to have lived the life I have lived. Although I agree that ignorance is bliss, I have become quite content with the limited awareness that I possess today. I’m grateful for the opportunity to have loved and…given up, and to have been loved in return, even if my giving up of such things will mean that I may never love again. I have lived a life of financial security. I am fairly (although not fully) content with the person I have been able to become.
What could I possibly have to complain about? Not much. Only about a few things unresolved, from a past I’m still trying to understand.
Life, as it were, appears to be good. So why do I not feel as happy as I should? Perhaps a chemical imbalance of some sort, although I don’t want to be so arrogant as to make such a claim without more substantial symptoms.
I believe the answer lies in the fact that the last few things in my life which need resolution are major enough to leave me only feeling complacent. The next step, past identifying such matters, would be to resolve them.
But perhaps complacency is the best one can do.