For loneliness. All things that will most likely cause me consternation.
For whom am I doing this again? Myself? Certainly not. Well at least, at a conscious level, not really.
My parents? ...probably.
The idea of 'for nothing, for nobody' is just ghastly.
In the end, I'm just another faceless, spineless, scavenger of stability and practicality. If only one could be sane and irrational at the same time.
I'm not entirely ungrateful. Everything is supposedly for my own well-being and it most probably is. I just fervently wish I could be happy.
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