After a hard day compromising my principles, I like nothing better than to crouch in the corner of my bathroom screaming and clawing at my stupid skin. "It won't come off! It won't come off!" I scream. Then, I like to fend off the feelings of hopelessness by washing my car. I like my car. It's shiny. Then I hug my wife, and the pain of existence abates temporarily. But then, I remember.
Oh god. Oh god. I remember.
Then it's time for a bath. I like baths. They make me feel like I'm happy. I remember what it was like to be young. Or do I? Life was so different then. I was so different then. I cared about things. Do I even remember what it was like to care?