Why does restlessness set in during the late evening hours, in the darkness, when the house sleeps and your stomach aimlessly hungers for chocolate, salt, and grease? How is an overwhelming self-assurance always followed by an irrational sense of inadequacy or unlikeability? What does it feel like, the contentment that was present only hours ago? Where did the voices of insecurity take the speakers of confidence to silence their words? Who will prevail in the battle of untruths, the false optimism or the contrived self-defeat? Surely, in this post-modern world, the answer changes with each rising and falling experience of the self.