I stand in my naked existential self and ask another human, to what end was I born? Because if God or some person of authority I can respect tells me the truth, whether it hurts or not, I can accept it and learn as I go on to do the right thing. Wasn’t it said in some charter of rights somewhere, or perhaps a philosophy book—that it is enough to exist because I exist—I no longer feel I have to justify my moment to moment existence whenever the public-at-large judges me? I am here. I am no freak of nature. I’m simply here. And my words, if they help another, become a testament to my existence. It is no longer a dinner table mind-game we play at the homes of social-climbing families, but rather a sovereign awareness that self-justification is no longer needed. I simply am.