Why is it so hard to find a job that matches my skill set.
Why is it so hard to afford a place of my own, a car and other essentials that fit the basic human requirements.
Why is it so hard to find a boyfriend. A guy who likes me and then eventually loves me.
Why is it so hard to fall in love with a guy that I actually like.
Why is it nearly impossible to make a living from doing what you do best, even when you are better than average.
Why do people who don’t work nearly as hard as I do thrive and prosper, while I am forevermore stuck in neutral.
Why hasn’t being thin and pretty worked in my favor.
Why hasn’t being smart and talented boosted my chances of success.
Why can’t I take care of myself.
Why can’t I take care of others.
Why can’t I believe that things will get better.
Why can’t I stop lying about my age.
Why can’t I stop getting older.
Why can’t I be grateful for the things I have even if they remind me of what’s missing.
Why can’t I improve my outlook.
Why did I come here.
When will I leave here.
Why can’t I just live?
’Cause it’s a bittersweet symphony, this life
Try to make ends meet
You’re a slave to money then you die