"You are sad, but it's okay because tacos are a thing," says the vapid man in front of you.
Immediately you are sure this man has never known pain deeper than a stubbed toe, or questioned his existence beyond whether or not he was the most important person in the universe or not.
...but the longer you let his words simmer in your brain, the less they seem like the imbecilic ramblings of a man completely ignorant of the true nature of the human condition and the more they seem a calculated effort to provide a true distraction from the innumerable pangs of guilt, suffering, and regret that assail you every conscious moment.
Deep in the throes of a crushing, lonely depression, you take some comfort in knowing grade D beef and cheese by-product wrapped in heavily processed unleavened bread can lift you up on wings of happiness away from the weight of your miserable existence - if only for a moment.
You order a taco.