When you choose to perform the indefensible, you moan that you were tired if there is no one else to blame. Howling in a storm of self-constructed anguish, the worst of your traumas would always centre upon yourself. Events of importance leave you cold whilst you remain obsessed with the oft repeated minutiae of your trivial existence. The course of your life has no qualitative difference to that of any other animal, save for the quirk that you have the cleverness to make pseudo conscious noises about your predicament. It has been a studied effort for you to take the cultures available and banalise them into the specious rhetoric that glosses the veneer of you comfort seeking.
Happiness becomes the catch-all legitimizer for any personal indulgence.
Puerile minds would sneer at the semblances of reason that are contorted to be your considered approach. Paralysis is what you aspire to if you thought your motives through. The complete form of this would be death. Rarely do questions fill your mind since you prefer to just preen your complacency with a mass of facile truisms. Accept it, the future cannot lie with your kind.