?

Why am I faced with a blank screen?
Why am I still awake though I am tired and miles away from home?
Why do I want to write something even though I have nothing to say?
Why must everything always make sense?
Why do I have this inane need to rationalise everything?
Why do I have to have everything straightened out even if it is just a picture on the wall?
Why do I abhor typos?
Is it an OCD?
So what if it is?
Why can't I let things be?
Am I afraid to let them?
What is the worst that could happen?
Will I be able to live it down if it would?
Will Calvin ever grow up?
Should he?
Will Mark ever make a mediocre song?
Why can't the iPhone have a better battery life?
Why can't I have a better battery life?
Can we truly feel alive without a struggle?
When will the work pressure ease up?
When will I retire?
When will I die?
Who will cry when that happens?
Am I happy with myself?
Can I truly love?
Why am I so loved?
Is it for my intelligence, charm, sardonic wit or is it just karmic?
Do I really want to know the answer?
Will I be happy if I get an honest one?
Who am I fooling?
Am I fooling myself above all?

Does every question have to be answered?