001;

[thanatopsis]

For all my complaining, there's a part of me that enjoys it when I'm upset. It's not the feeling that enjoyable, but rather my own reaction to them afterwards. I always act like I have something to hide, so the natural conclusion I've come to is that I do. But what could it be? From whom am I hiding? Myself? Ridiculous; I cannot hide from myself. There is only one of me.

Maybe that's what I find enjoyable. I'm the most complex and difficult puzzle I've ever encountered in my life. I'm working on a time limit. I must figure out myself before I die, or the puzzle shall remain unsolved forever. Now, will I attempt to solve the puzzle of myself with as much haste as possible, or shall I drag out the process so as to sweeten the climax?

Today, I chose to be selfish.