When the insightful music chimes in after a profound statement is uttered on the dial he has to restrain his cynicism from putting a red X in the box marked "No Contribution." Whenever he sees a symbol of hope flit across the sky in a blur of white he has to squint further to even get it. It dawns on him like a silly mistake: this life is meant to be cherished. That's why all these cheermongers keep placing samples of uplifting monologues in their positive vibe soundtracks. Why do they seem so complacent, these life affirming sentiments? Why, when he's yet to experience any sort of tragedy or massive upheaval, is it so hard to walk the soft ground without the hard thought? There may be a wicked trench yet to be uncovered, a foreshadowing, a thunderstorm upon the plains in the distance, a death, a love gone, a decades worth of tears, a paycheck like an affirmation of the worst: there may be something in the future that gives reason to these stupid preoccupations. He wants to fall in love, and yes, that doesn't happen. He wants to feel complete, and yes, that hasn't happened. He preys upon contentment like a jackal. He's just full of wants unfulfilled. The skeptic sits upon the ledge of the ominous building across the way with a sniper rifle. All those reasons to be happy come streaming out of the trapdoor on ground level only to be picked off one by one... a self fulfilling prophesy, these bullets laying within the chamber. To pass is to be over, and yes, this too shall pass, all of it.
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