Why is life so complicated for some of us? Why can’t some of us think straight, with clarity, and without doubts? Does this sense of feeling detached, of feeling different from the rest stem from one’s own failure?
Why is childlike innocence looked down up on? Why does love get such a bad name? Why is affection a sign of weakness?
Why is a stoic resolve to act like a stone which only makes a dent in others acceptable and commonplace?