I feel like I’m inadequate. I feel like I’m under performing. I feel like a failure. I don’t know what I should be doing. I don’t know how I should feel. I don’t know how how I should think or feel about the world because there’s just too much to it. Why does anything I do matter given that I will eventually die and return to my original state of nonexistence? Why am I so unreliable? Why do I lie a lot? Why am I so introverted, so much so that I am unable to make new friends? Why does the sheer vastness of existence paralyze me?