I see plenty of them. And they sicken me. For no other reason that they are happy. I could come with fine examples of other's suffering, on how worthless they are, how miserable most are, but that would be lying. I know it is because I, myself, do not feel their joy. I know it is because I believe them to be happy because of my lack of joy, that they find amusement in me, that they wish to show their happiness to remind me what I do not have. They are friendly to one another, like the perfect little happy family, with every sort of social greeting, while I just stare at them, with a blank expression, silently speaking against them, for I dare not speak my mind, for I know I am in the wrong. I realise fully that I am selfish, that their joy has nothing to do with me, but I believe otherwise. How could I not. It's like feasting in front of one tied to a tree.