“I have of late,–but wherefore I know not,–lost all my
mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so
heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth,
seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the
air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical
roof fretted with golden fire,–why, it appears no other thing
to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a
piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in
faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in
action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the
beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what
is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; ”

Hamlet Act II, scene ii

Okay, so my uncle hasn’t murdered his brother, my father. And my mother hasn’t invited him with unseemly haste into her widow’s bed. I am not exhorted to wreak revenge by the ghost of my dead father. A bloody obligation that weighs so heavily upon me that I question my own sanity. And, granted, I haven’t shunned my one true love for fear that, in my madness, I may harm her. So, in all likelihood, she won’t go mad and top herself. My live is nothing like that. In fact, life is grand.

But all the same, I know how he feels.