I hate that life seems to be made of tiny moments of tension and worry, which, when solved or passed by, are replaced by other small troubles. And life seems to never reach anywhere, and you never feel like it has finally settled down and you life has finally "began", and when you least expect, BANG, you die a horrible, painful death. No meaning, no sense, just a corpse inside a coffin and a trembling widow calling a credit card company to explain why they weren't able to pay that month.