Why is it, that any one but me can be depressed?

Why is it, that when I am sad, people must ask me why?

Why can’t my sadness be my own?

Why can’t I enjoy silence?

Must I constantly be surrounded with noise?

Can’t there be joy in the quietness of a fading sunset?

Or must that too have a sound?

Can I ever enjoy a carton of ice cream and not feel guilty?

Can I ever feel truly beautiful on my own?

Isn’t sleeping naked fun?

Isn’t it fun to cause mischief?

Aren’t doing so called "dirty things" more fun with out the fear of getting

caught?

Aren't doing "dirty things" more fun with the fear of getting caught?

Isn’t Sunday the best day out of the week?

Why is life so complicated?

Is there a god?

Why can’t I see it?

Why is it always depicted as a male (at least in the catholic church)?

Why is it that I am so clumsy?

What did I ever do to deserve that curse?

Does the water in your body expand during the full moon?

Does this fact attribute to why women can be so moody sometimes?

Why do women suffer more pain than men?

Why is it that the stronger of the human species is the oppressed of said

species?

Am I crazy?

Should I be?

Why is the world such a hypocritical place?

Why can’t I understand French?

Why doesn’t every one in the world speak just one language?

Why don’t men understand women?

And vice-versa?

Why do men and women fall in love?

Why can’t blacks and whites just forget about slavery and get along?

Why do people procrastinate?

Why don’t I ever go to bed on time?

Why is it so easy to get frustrated?

How come the people who love you the most hurt you the most?

And vice-versa?

Why is it easier for a person to talk to them selves than with others?

How is it that I can only tell my boyfriend my darkest secrets, and lie to

everyone else?

Why do radio stations over-play songs?

Why do none of my questions ever get answered?

-Carol LaFay