Emotional masochism?

For a few days after meeting with Socrates, I was finally at peace, no longer plagued by anxiety about the morality or nobility of my desires, no longer fearful that I would never find a partner to share them with, no longer fearful that some measure of reserve in my psyche would make opening myself up to someone in that manner impossible, no longer anxious at having fallen so far behind my peers in dating and romance. I had finally grown into my own skin, made a tremendous leap. Truly, I had found happiness.

Except I hadn't.

All throughout that period of contentment, something felt...off. Maybe I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I don't think that's the entire story. I kept asking myself, over and over, "what did I do to deserve such fortune, such happiness, especially when so many across the world are so miserable?" And while there may have been a nearly survivor's complex guilt there, I don't think that that was the cause. Nor indeed could it be explained by a feeling of unworthiness at my excellent fortune.

The truth of the matter is, when I'm at peace, I'm not at peace, and when I'm content, I'm not content. There's something in me that relishes the challenge of a worry, the goad of anxiety to make me strive to be better than I am. When I felt I had finally found it, there was almost a sense of loss: that I had ended the struggle, and could discover no more.

Such is the imperiousness of youth.

So when the worries returned, though in a different guise- and how could they not? The goad to introspection strikes me just as surely as the longing for submission, and any happiness of mine could not stand unexamined for long- I welcomed their return.

Back to work, I thought.

It's funny; before now, I always thought that "it's about the journey, not the destination," was only a trite platitude. As goal-focused as a utilitarian must needs be, it rung hollow to me. I'm gaining more respect for this bit of common wisdom, though.

I make my title nearly facetiously, for I do not truly believe that this part of me is linked to my masochism. I'm far more inclined to believe that it's more widespread than my odd sexuality, and that if its genesis is anywhere it lies in my introspective and striving nature.