Lately, I’ve been thinking that the troubles in my life have not been troubling enough. That I am almost inadequate in that my worst days have not been as terrible as the worst days of others. This is certainly true, in a universal assessment. But given the reality of being confined only to the spectrum of my own experience, it seems a strange and unique place to embrace a universalism coerced into pettiness merely to compare my troubles on some imagined chart. To engage in an almost adversarial competition of suffering. To discard the epistemological solipsism I have come to generally accept, in favor of some inter-emotional grading system simply in service of feeling bad for not having felt bad enough.