i am sick of the worship of comfort. happiness and comfort are completely unrelated. i'm going to end this right here. let you figure it out for yourself. well, maybe i'll ask you a question. how often do you get out from underneath the warm covers of your queen/king-sized bed, and get in the warm shower for as long as you want to make yourself smell good and wake yourself up, and fill your belly as full as you want it to fill and get into your comfortable shoes and get into your air-conditioned/heated car and turn the radio up to a comfortable volume and drive to your work/school and sit in your ergonomical chair and don't do anything physically or mentally or emotionally strenuous until you feel like filling your belly again and so on - how often do you go through that routine, or one like that that causes minimal displeasure and minimal novel experiences to deal with, and feel truly honestly happy just to exist or to be experiencing what you're experiencing right then? and how often do you feel bored/melancholic? compare the times.
Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien