Questions

Two questions keep plaguing me: What has life given me that I did not pry out of unreluctant hands for myself? What have I done for myself that was not given me by helping hands and friendly hearts? The first makes me despair of life, making me the centre(and everything) of my world, erasing all meaning out of life; the second makes me despair of ever doing anything that could not have been done by anybody else in the same position. Every so often I feel glad of having accomplished something and then I realise that either I merely am a parasite feeding off others, or horribly worse, it is all merely another short respite from a meaningless trudge towards the top of a hill knowing the rock will roll down any minute. The life of Sisyphus on one hand and that of a swaddled baby on the other. Which do I choose for my greater glory? What ring of thorns do I devise for myself to get out of all this holy mess? Who will I forgive and by whom forgiven? That makes more questions but they do not plague me.