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It is much better to be unaware, so one may consider these trivial matters of little effect nor interest. But when one is in such a position where he is painfully conscious of their wonders, but forced to take them more lightly than he can, it has a dreadful, dreadful, dreadful impact upon his sanity. It is torture, to be simply put. Pure, raw, torture. And one must be nonchalant, and put up a beautiful, masterfully crafted pretense that it simply does not take up his thoughts, for it is an indication of weakness to both the heaven and hell which is balancing act straddles, yet immersed fully in the hell in which he burns, but in full view of the heaven of which he will never reach. That, my friends, drives one crazy. Crazy enough to wish for an alternative much worse, one where he will never get to even glimpse paradise, but better, for one is blissfully unaware of the flames of his hell burning away at all that one has left.  One would thus wish he was never alive, to experience the agony of possessing hope of salvation, but to be forever mired in distraught, never to find a better place to live in like those he is forced to see casually stroll about.