The primary problem is one of assuming that all the rich inner world is somehow seen, felt and heard by the outside world.

It always seems fairly well understood until you catch yourself once again full of piss and vinegar or mad sorrow over some awful thing that others should clearly see is a huge deal, and you grow more and more outraged and mystified when no one seems to be seeing the importance of your very important problem.

It's not like you are some toddler crying about your shoe coming untied. This is serious business--a series of slights that should prompt immediate outrage among all who still possess humanity. Except, it isn't.

Others will remind you just how big a deal your problems are and how terribly unique your sad stories are (which is to say: not in the least).

So, you can spend more time perfecting a series of artificial relationships with people to try to corner them into situations where they offer you sympathy and understanding (because you have made the most minimal effort to elicit this sort of thing from others) --sometimes not much more than the IRL version of a bunch of Instagram followers you are sadfishing for supportive comments.

But, is your "established life" of sympathetic ears really a true bunch of diehard friends and family or simply individuals who will lend you an ear and shoulder to cry on as long as you massage their egos/do something for them that they need? And are they really that sympathetic in those moments when they seem to be?

The truth is, everyone continues to run a fairly sophisticated game of trying to make the outside world bend more closely to whatever it is their inner tyrant wants the world to be like--we seek out those who will validate our personal image of ourselves, to be for sure, but we also have blind sides a mile wide over just how well-received we are and how much our little crusades and life missions matter in the end.

The answer to this could be endless depression over the fact that nothing you do or say will amount to much that will every be remembered by anyone, outside of whatever is embedded in your DNA if it gets passed on by your children, grandchildren, etc. Or, it can become a great freeing delight--a real treat to finally no longer feel like you are an utter failure at life if you fail to achieve X, Y, Z before death.

What's more, you can rest easy knowing that you, famous people, and everyone else, are going to be forgotten in a few generations, at best remembered only as names for history tests. And that who you might really be once freed from this particular body/life role might be something/someone so much more spectacular than even the wildest god you ever dreamed up--or at the very least, you might be someone totally different outside of this physical form--like water, ready to take on the form of the next vessel you enter.