Why do people suffer? Why do I love my sadness? Why do I only see beauty in death? Why is there no truth, no divinity, in survival or ambition or hope? Why do I only love those who have given up? Why is it so beautiful? Why do I think these bizarre thoughts? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I dream of comforting her as she drifts away? Why can I do nothing to save her? Why didn't I go with her? Why the fuck can't I find the words? Why did I turn out this way? Why am I so empty?