Senescent Weekend

I've never been one for parties. And this weekend, despite the small number of company I maintained, I was exhausted. But at least I managed to see one friend again after half a year, and hear from another handful of people in whose minds I've yet to be completely sunk into the dark abyss of oblivion.
It's nice to exist, I think. Et je pense, donc je suis! So the old saying goes. Attribute my reverse way of thinking to my quirkiness, but I always find days like today to be a time of reflection and contemplation. Mindless celebrations are for funerals. Finally free from the foul fiends and fools of this mortal coil. Death is a freedom in which one cannot take any action in this world. One who is not involved should not have a right to influence.
What have I done this year? What have I accomplished? Where am I going? And whither am I destined? To contemplate one's existence is a moot point. Acute metaphysicians bend their minds to the task and exhaust their acuity. But what would I like to be, and how would it be "good"?
It may be lonely at the top, but it's suffocating at the bottom. The flame of life continues to burn away at the wick of our centres and slowly lick away our bodies of wax. Such an ephermeral beauty.