For a very long time, I was massively pissed off at the Universe. I was given a Life, plonked on this planet and had no idea what to do with myself. Or my Life.
I think it would be nice if on our tenth birthdays, say, the clouds part, angels descend to the tune of Beethoven’s Ode To Joy, and we are presented a book of instructions on how to live Life.
Perhaps accompanied by a selection of Bon-Bons and chocolate.
And a Unicorn.
Regrettably, this has never happened and never will happen. There are no manuals on how to live life or how to be happy. (Unless you count this one, and it’s usefulness is up for debate.)