And there's always a catch.

"So you're pissed. Big deal…write a song about it or something. Isn't that the kind of thing you totally get off on, anyway?"

"I get off on other people's incompetency? Yeah, no…I love feeling like the only sentient being in the room."

"Of course you do. It's fuel for your rocket of self-expression and angry realism, isn't it."

"No. And I'm not pissed off…I'm just frustrated for petty reasons. Mainly because the people who surround me aren't like me. I'm not writing about that. Who wants to hear me anonymously yell at people I loved for not seeing things the way I do, or eating their salad with a dessert fork? Why should I let the world know I'm jealous of the 8-year-old down the street because he gets more attention than I do whenever one of us crosses the street only after looking both ways?"

"Why not?"

"Because there's an entire genre out there composed by people who want to whine about how different they are, how terribly unkind the world is, and how hard it is to be overburdened, under-appreciated them. Or better yet, how utterly un-special they are and how that secretly makes them even more attractive and tortured. I'm not contributing to the endless stream of 'oh-woe-is-me' songs…no matter how true it may be."

"So what do you really want to be writing about?"

"Not feeling sorry for myself. More or less, about feeling desperate for my future and knowing myself enough to realize that I'm not as fragile and attractive as I could be. I'm bold to the point of fault. My desire to live results in undesirable situations on the regular. I've become that person that I always kind of loathed while deeply admiring, because deep-down I wanted to be them, or at least share in their so-called excitement. I know myself so well as to understand in great detail that I'm all the wrong things to be perceived the way I want to be, but I've got all the right moves to end up where I need to be. Or not. Sometimes I think I'm wired to skate the thin line between greatness and middle management…Immortality or just plain, unfettered, uninteresting existence. I guess I always kind of knew on some inherent level that I'd be the last man standing. Whether that's good or not is yet to be seen."

"You're deep."

"…No. I'm just a little pissed."