Sometimes a picture tells a thousand words.
Some days, you wake up, knowing you look good. You are happy. You feel joy. You epitomize love. You race out, shrieking, "Good Morning, world!" You are a Robbie.
Other mornings, the fears and doubts of the world fall in on you. You feel nervous. Paranoia begins to creep in. You mourn your misspent youth. You count the white hairs on your muzzle, err, temple. And you shake your fist at the world, yelling, "Do you have a problem with me?" You are a Chancey.