I've lost it.
Some things are just uncontrollable. Frustrations, anger or sadness, you have to vent it all out. But the freedom to do so ties you down. So what's the purpose of living? Since everything is within your control, I suppose I'm just living like a puppet. I don't have a life of my own. Screwed as it seems, I'm still supposed to do better. This just doesn't make any sense.
Considerate? Respect? Care & concern?
If only you knew, urgh, screw my life.