"All that's left are vices torn"

In today's world of psychoanalysis, over-the-counter remedies, and big names for minor inconveniences, I sometimes wonder how much of it is just bullshit. But I don't know. I guess I go back and forth on the issue of modern (or post-modern?) neuroses. I've definitely had my moments and I think I've seen glimmers of it in others (some more certainly than others).

The Starbucks generation is dying a little all the time. It's just like every other one before it I suppose.

I can't decide what's embarassing, what's honest, what's acceptable to admit, what's acceptable to deny. How much shit are you supposed to take before you're allowed to really let someone have it? Why is politeness such a high virtue?

Should we all just bow at the temple or what? Why should I be considerate if I'm only going to be deemed a pushover by some over-confident strutting bastard?

The Hobbesian state of war.

I count down the days until the events I look forward to, yet I bristle under the mantle of wearisome time. I swear just yesterday I was about seven years old.

I can't stand it.