tilting at windmills

I know why Don Quixote tilted at the windmills. When there are no giants in the world, you have to invent them. When there are no epic adventures, you delude yourself there are out of desperate necessity.

I am so, so disappointed with life. When I was a child, there was an endless Earth and an endless number of kingdoms to save and damsels to rescue.

Next to it all, everything's next to nothing.

No God looks down on me, no princess cries out for me, no far away lands beckon me, and no great mysteries need to be solved. It's just tedium, the unpleasant, a declining body, and an ever closer face of death.

I just want to cry. Children are the only ones alive, and I died long ago.