I hate being deep, being philosophical and contemplative.
I much prefer to be analytical, judgemental, and cynical.
However, I am feeling much more the former than the latter.
I am pondering the concept of money.
I feel philosophical—money has the power to break up marriages,
cause deep depressions, even the power to create a stomach ulcer.
Yet it is only a few grams of metal, or even worse, a stingy piece of paper,
which has probably been through the wash a few times by now.
While I contemplate, ruminate with these thoughts,
I come to a deep realization,
the cynic within me cannot even hide for a moment,
while I pretend to be philosophical.