One day I will look back on all of these so-called man problems and see how blessed I was. Blessed to have been adored while I was getting older, but still young enough to reel it in.
Yet I can hear my mortality knocking at the door; "As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door", as Edgar Allan Poe said in The Raven. "Tis some visitor", I mutter, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more."
Only this, and nothing more."