The air will always be too filled with something. Your body too sore or tired. Your father too drunk. Your wife too cold. You will always have some excuse not to live your life.
Unlike demons, you’re base, you harbor a complicated malice, you lie… You struggle desperately, knocking down others in your way… You steal and are stolen from, you make endless excuses… And still you strive to get over the hill and far away. I suppose that’s why humans are so interesting.