Unfit for consumption.
Why am I so sad? Why? Why is nothing enough? Why am I infinitely restless and doubting? Why do I fear the future? Isn't companionship the only real prize? Why am I thinking about the past again? Shedding tears for it still? Do I have any idea what love even is? Do I have the faintest idea of what I want? Why do the most common of human experiences strike me as so unacceptably absurd??