It takes a lot of hate to inflict the sort of tortured discontent that afflicts my generation. Whether we’re willing to admit it, we all feel it, see it, know it intimately. And how could we not? It is this pain which drives us to do more and better than our predecesors which is, ironically, at least partly responsible for this state of perpetual misery in which we find ourselves. Is it that we are not capable of success which would pale the accomplishments of our parents and grandparents? Are we compelled to force failure upon ourselves that we don’t shame our elders? Is the answer to the question “why are we so broken?” far more sinister than these musings could explain?
These questions, as all posed, have answers. The issue then, is whether we possess the constitution, not only to seek them out, but to suffer the consequences of knowledge which could tear the veil of ill-conceived dreams we wear from upon us.