Square root of misery

Most pain is self-inflicted and self-healing too says Vaishali. To ask is the beginning of to be denied. Quite possible, but where does the journey end? And where did it begin?
A Beatles song comes to mind "The world's treating me bad, Misery!". And then comes Savage Garden's "Lemon Tree"... Isolation is not good for me. I don't want to sit on a lemon tree.

If Misery gathers interest compounded every second, it should soon be enough to fill my 12x11 room, like the foam Amita sprayed on me, only muddy in color, and smelling downright pungent instead of soapy. What's more, I have my windows closed cause it's cold and raining outside, so none of it shall escape. I picture myself wallowing in the roomful of soft, dull brown Misery, playing with multicoloured balls of memories, flailing my arms around and shouting out like kids in the McDonald's Ball Pit... only thing, the kids are generally happy.

I start to doubt what Vaishali said. Expectations, yes, but there are ideas which one comes to believe in with every ounce of conviction that oozes out of deep emotional recesses. That faith is the square root of Misery.