What are the real issues of life?

Haven't had the time to really think about it. Maybe the real issue is life...

Slightly sad isn't it, that we can't all have the time to do everything and anything and make ourselves worthwhile and useful and helpful and secure in our choices and lives and daily imagination?

I find it to be a storybook romance, this thing called life, and love, and mistakes, and prejudice, racism and sexism, hate and rage, passion and lust, and happiness, and optimism, and confusion, horror, fear, denial. It's a blur of emotion that no one can figure out. No one can conquer. A blend of everything that makes us human.

Nobody cares about anyone else anymore because it always has to be about them. It has to be about their wants and needs and day to day ritual that no one else can see. It has to be about everything but everyone else. It has to be different. It has to be real.

We're all just the same though...

Haven't had the time to really think about it. Maybe the real issue is life.

I'll get back to you on that.

--The Suffering Artist