The Rudimentary Musings in Madness

I sometimes feel like I'm going crazy. Crazy from the city, crazy from my life, crazy from my relationship, crazy from my friends. In general I would say that I tend towards general levity with regard to life, but lately I've become so disenchanted with the prospects for a "successful" life. What is a successful life? I have no ambitions toward excess wealth, and yet find myself in an awkward position where my genuine ambition to help the poor has unfortunately put me in the ranks of them. Maybe it's the nature of New York City that creates a certain maladjustment of priorities with regard to ones life goals, but I find myself desiring (let me restate that I have no ambition toward excess wealth) to write a book just to be able to support my pragmatic endeavors to help the world's downtrodden and oppressed. In reality, I think that I will just have end up supplementing my meager income with a second job while I attempt in my feeble way to save the world one obese child at a time.