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The last days of this most unsummery of summers are upon us, and with them the cries of the cicadas which have been so noticeably absent for most of the season have finally ratcheted up to levels verging on hysterical.  As these insects sing their desperate and almost plaintive songs in hope that a mate will respond, thus fulfilling their short lifespan, I find myself responding to them in a way I would not have expected.  Rather than recognising an echo of their cry inside myself, today I found myself thinking that I’m okay with things the way they are.  I don’t need another person to validate my existence or to “complete me”.  And while I might feel alone sometimes, that’s okay.  I’m alright with it being just me.  And it feels healthy to be thinking this way.  Well today it does, in any case.

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