Now that I am a little older and find myself in a position read the tortured, earnest prose of younger writers, I would like to formally apologize to everyone to whom I have said in the past, "Read this and tell me what you think."

I would also like to apologize in advance to my future self who, I'm sure, is in for more moments of mortification. Please understand that I really don't think my writing is terrible. 

But I am willing to accept that will change.

Sincerely,
g. 

I shouldn't be posting from work. I shouldn't be posting at all when I feel like this. But it can't be helped. I am having one of those moments when I feel absolutely desperate - like nothing is right or will ever be, like there is nothing to look forward to or even back on to make me feel better. I don't even have the luxury of torment. At this moment I see a life littered only with petty annoyance and falling expectation.

Obviously, the last was some measure of hyperbole - lest some reader start down the "you don't know what it is to suffer people are sick and dying and starving and oppressed" road. I don't want torment in answer to whatever this is - but it pains me I can feel so very badly without some quantifiable reason. 

Sometimes, when I get this way, I tell myself, "Self, everyone has days like this." If the internet has taught me anything (jury's out) it would be that there isn't an emotion, a thought, an experience I can have that hasn't been felt, thought or experienced a million times before. No special snowflakes, we. But today! Today this hopelessness rushes over me - my chest is tight, my eyes constantly full of tears - and I wonder. What if this really is madness?

I need some kind of break from this - and I begin to care very little how I might achieve it.