In order to better understand the secwet reason behind my discontent with the world* — which certain men of my acquaintance bemusedly term ‘surprising’ and ‘inexplicable’, and which many women find discomfitingly forthright — I’ve finally hit upon this causal truism:
To be comfortable in the fractured, violent, superficially sympathetic and economically vampiric societies we live in is to be addicted to illusions and rotting within from a festering malaise.
By that paradigm, I’m delighted to discover I’m vigorously healthy.
Now if only that health brought the blessing of blissful happiness in its wake. But that, I suppose, is the customary sacrifice one must make in exchange for an approximation of freedom? Well, all right then.
[*It cannot, obviously be the world, because aren’t ‘well-adjusted’ people doing just fine in it?]