Why is it that I am so quick to deem myself inferior when someone comes my way with a problem or difficulty that I simply can't emotionally relate to? What is it about me that forces some sort of hedonistic inadequacy into my system, bent on guilting me for all eternity, merely because I do not fall prey to an emotionally distraught plane over one singular occurrence that, surely, will not be the end of the universe, nor anything that will prove mortal or disfiguring? Do I have any sympathy left in this cold, hardened shell? Do I even care enough to continue asking that question?
The world may never know.
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