Five questions suspend in my head like infuriating specks of cheerful-beyond-belief clouds that just won’t give me a break.
1. What’s the point of all this?
2. Why struggle?
3. Why can’t I be a bona fide asshole and just remain that way?
4. Why can’t I bear the thought of being regularly involved in self-loathing mentations?
5. Why am I so bad at being too close for comfort?
As a human capable of this ability called cognition, the more I try to rationalize with shallow pseudo-philosophies or recycled self-empowering tepid attempt at self-consolations, the more I flagellate myself by mentally kicking my own shins.