we have so many perhaps-biological defenses against recognizing the truth of the matter being that we are gross flesh balloons living in very suboptimal conditions even if we have it better than our ancestors who drew cave murals with blood. modern existence is still heinous although the modern comforts like air conditioner were developed to mask this. life is, from a feeling-good-more-often-than-not metric, continuously hard to justify. and no, i'm not depressed; i am simply alive.