Cassandra Weber

I think he’s very lonely. Lonelier than he lets on. Maybe lonelier than he even realizes.

I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything.

I denied myself nothing my eyes desired;    I refused my heart no pleasure. My heart took delight in all my labor,    and this was the reward for all my toil. Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done    and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind;    nothing was gained under the sun. Then I said to myself,    “This is meaningless.” A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?