Some days, I feel like Schrodinger’s Cat. Not quite sure if I’m dead or alive.
Then there are days I wonder who I really am. Perhaps I’m just a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?
Other times I just feel like Pavlov’s Dog: conditioned by society to desire more, which never is enough. In the end, all I get are unfulfilled desires, salivating at the possibilities, depressed with the realities.