“This town blows.  Life sucks,” you silently brood as you march miserably home in the wretched sunlight.  Soon, you drift into a state of deep introspection on the topic of your future life and find yourself torn between two conflicting possibilities:

1. Pursuing your dream of becoming the world’s next celebrated tormented female writer like Sylvia Plath or Virginia Woolf, or perhaps singing lead in a famous goth band.

2. Just giving up, embracing the darkness and wallowing in the cruel fate this Godless universe seems hell bent on delivering you regardless.

As you approach your house, you notice a couple of your stupid inbred neighbors sitting on the porch.  One waves, inviting you over.