Isn’t it sad what our lives are like? We exist to be happy but so much of our lives are stolen by our need to exist. We’re sitting at a desk crunching numbers, putting in our forty hours just so we can live after 5pm. But our work is vital. How else would we get ourselves out of bed before the day is half over? How else would we uphold our nation and avoid leaving each man to his own? How else would we hold the money to get what we want? Maybe it’s not worth it; maybe the agony of our work is so overpowering that we would rather not work at all. But to live, you have to work. You can’t fix this, lest you run yourself out of money and hardly live at all. It’s up to you not up to us to find what you what, to find how you can live.