I claim to know how is to live. But when things do not go the way I expect them to be, I begin to pull back. At the end of a burn out week, I sigh, "Life is an unfertile soil. I sulk. I get frustrated. When things get rough, I cease to find meaning in what I do. The good works I have done seem to be in vain. My relationship gets blurred. Problems get worse until I see no way out. I give up and conclude that I really cannot have a rational explanation for all the bad things that happen. The only choice I have is to abandon the soil and go where pleasurable and comfortable are.