"The young are such wonderful fools".

The older you get, the better off you'll all be when you realise that all these things you fondly make jubilant and furious noise about will eventually cease to matter. All that matters is compromise and how to give in to the ones that truly affect you the least. Eventually, unless you're really lucky, in which case I hate you, your life will become a large room with the oxygen slowly running out while you have the dim realization (much like a rabbit does, I assume) that something is wrong but refuse to let yourself accept what it is because that would mean spending your hours concentrating on breathing as slowly and as little as possible instead of distracting yourself with the shiny rattle in the corner. Same room, different people.

Now for the all too predictable question to myself: what brought this on? Answer: the realization that no matter how I struggle, I shall eventually have to get married. No matter how much I try to avoid it, I shall have to face the fact that since all the men I meet are either inferior to me or superior, I shall either live in depression over having married a baboon or loathe myself for having married someone inherently smarter than myself. External contempt or internal contempt isn't much of a choice when you really think about it. Either way, this story ends with the walls closing in and helpless last looks at the locked door.