..from "The Merchant of Venice". I studied it through high school, and know the opening lines almost by heart. As we progressed through the book, we were tested on the entire book up to the point where we had stopped. So, I ended up studying the first act for like 20 tests!In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Doesn't it describe how I feel? Not sad but a weird feeling of malaise. See there is no legitimate reason for me to feel so. In the poker game of life, I have been dealt a fairly decent set of cards. Obviously, a sense of entitlement could still make me feel disappointed, but I claim no such title. Quite simply, people are strange.
In the grand tradition of humanity, I shall externalize my feelings. Its the crappy wet snow this weekend. Its the frustration of summer being around the corner, but not being there yet. Its getting up at 7 in the morning during the week, and having to do homework all weekend. Its the uncertainty about the future, not that anyone has been able to successfully divine the future. Its this. Its that. Its this and that.
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