I am told that I cannot possibly win against the mafias of this world. If I am still around, that is because I am not an opponent worth dealing with, let alone removing from the face of the earth. And that I will lose if I do not join one of the sundry mafias. I disagree. From the bottom of my heart, too. Is this because I am a staunch believer in the individual? Or because I see myself as much more than an individual? An individual with a difference, that is. It is a mixture of the two, I guess. I certainly do not see myself as a lonely fighter for the truth, but as someone far from alone among many such fighters. How many? That is the biggest mystery of my position. For me, even ten individuals like me is already a large number. A miracle. Maybe there are a hundred of us, though. Or a thousand. More than that would mean that they cannot possibly be individuals with a difference, anyhow. Even a thousand such surely strikes me as a number worthy of mere tales. Nay, legends.

Addendum (June 14, 2015)

Concerning the biggest mystery of my position, I often go for the lowest number offered in this piece—ten. Thus I wonder why I jacked it up first to a hundred and then to a thousand on this particular occasion. Looking back, both of these numbers strike me as no less than ludicrous. I must have felt pretty miserable the day I offered them. But I also wonder why I have never offered any number below ten. For instance, what would be wrong in believing that there were no more than three individuals with a difference, just like me? Even more, what would be wrong in believing that one is the magical number? For better or worse, such numbers have never crossed my mind. Never ever. And I believe that the reason is simple enough to understand: I would feel alone in this world. Whence the magical number of ten individuals with a difference in my mind, to be sure. Although I have never met any of them, they are company still. My mates.