i can use somebody.

what good are you doing to yourself when you end up asking the same questions again. each day, all the time. melancholy is a vice, true but it is not all that is to you.
you  have known how to be happy. why does it happen then?
why does an art perfected over time just shudder and fade.

"O! Poor unthinking human heart! Error will not go away; logic and reason are slow to penetrate. We cling with both our arms to false hope, refusing to believe the weightiest proofs against it, embracing it with all our strength…

In the end it escapes ripping our veins and draining our heart’s blood; until regaining consciousness, we rush to fall into the snares of delusion all over again”.

-“ the postmaster “

Rabindranath Tagore