It would make sense. I mean, when you are that melancholy, everything seems a bit fake. No real trees. No real people. No real love. Melancholy separates you from others—or at least, that’s what it does for me. I hate that emotion. Hate it, hate it, hate it. But life is filled with it and you start looking at the world through melancholy eyes, and it seems like everything is erzatz.