existential angst at a fancy dinner

I don't want anyone to mistake me: the food is excellent. I've never tasted a finer wine and the chef is truly a master of his craft. The company is exquisite: I am seated next to an older gentleman who has earned a fortune in real estate, and the beautiful girl who is his daughter. I have never seen a more beautiful dress. Opposite me is a young man (moving on middle-aged) who is living very comfortably on an income generated in the information technology industry. By all rights I ought to be enjoying myself and celebrating that life is good.

I just can't. I keep thinking about "those less fortunate" and remembering the man I once knew who was barely keeping alive on his income. He was truly excited to be living. At this table there is an air of easy confidence, but also of boredom, of complacency. The girl at my left has never known adversity; the older gentleman seems disparaging of those with less money, as though they have somehow failed. The IT professional seems almost not sure what to do with his wealth. He throws it at charity. I think he feels guilty about it.

I know I do.