Cynical: (adj) bitterly or sneeringly distrustful, contemptuous, or pessimistic
I can’t imagine what goddamn reason I can come up with for writing these essays every day of my life.
Am I so freakishly insecure that I must beg at the feet of the inconsiderate and preoccupied?
Did I get turned down too many times in high school for dates, causing me to yearn for some glance of approval?
I don’t know.
But it certainly can’t be to win over your affection.
Do you have any? I mean, outside of your great admiration for the mirror and thousands of pictures of your children on your Facebook account.
Is there anything that moves you—except when your dog stands in a cute position just prior to pooping on your floor?
Am I really supposed to survive another season of pretending to encourage the illiterate American public to go to a voting booth to pull the lever for the person they think is the most obnoxious in his or her ads?
I don’t know what possesses my soul—if I have one—to contend that one more feeble attempt from my weary writer’s brain will perhaps dent the surface of the Planet Mars, which is level of the American public’s receptivity.
What is wrong with me?
Who would possibly care about a word from the dictionary which I happen to explore from the perspective of my journey?
Isn’t there another rerun of a remake on Netflix that could provide a binge-watch for bragging rights?
Now understand, this was not written in an effort to be cynical.