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Does the ability to think deeply actually make us more miserable? I'm starting to think ignorance really is bliss. I've begun to resent my capacity for deep thought. It hasn't turned me into Socrates, but it sure has prevented me from being a blissfully ignorant "happy pig." The more I analyze the world and my place in it, the more I see problems that can't be solved, injustices that can't be fixed, and existential questions without satisfying answers. Sometimes I envy people who just... exist... without constantly questioning everything. Is consciousness a gift or a curse? Has your tendency to overthink ever made you wish you could turn your brain off sometimes?

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