My, myself and... luck?

Sitting here in my dormitory room, at the Swedish student house, in Paris, in France...
It is slowly turning Sunday after a Saturday night, which I can honestly say was no night full of partying on the Paris streets. Me and a friend went to the cinemas and saw a very typical but allright french comedy instead. That was good enough.

The entire sorroundings are surreal, in a way that I'm not really usued to. I feel privilaged in a way I haven't felt for a long time, just to be staying in this rather beautiful house. It is somehow surreal that a working class boy, with quite shitty grades from school, gets a scholarship to study at one of the most prestigous language courses in Paris, at Sorbonne, and to live where I live today. I often reflect over my lifefortunes and wonders when it all will end.

The last years I have met people from virtually all over the world. And not only that, but these people will become some of the most influential guys and girls in their countries one day. It sets myself in questioning of who I am. I am nothing of a genious when it comes to studies and did not like my friends have top marks in school. I am simply just this working class boy that happened to be born in a rather good country, with quite some luck on the road and to always have met people who have inspired me and pushed me forward (giving me the idea that even I can succeed in life). Even when I saw the dark days, with beeing quite ill (picturing a retirement at the age of 30) I was lucky enough to get help and treatment. Today I can walk and run just as any normal man in his mid 20's. For that I am greatful.
But somedays it really is too frightening to be out in the world all by yourself. I simply can't stop thinking of when all good things comes to an end, and I wish I had friends who came from the same environment as me. It's lonelyness in an ungratefull way that I am not proud of. I have no right to complain.