Lately things have been feeling so tightly wound that I feel like I am nothing but a bag of delicate twigs inside. Push a little on the outside wrapper and something inside breaks before it bends. It feels like that is all that is left in me.
Not that anyone is paying much attention. I know this blog is invisible to anyone that matters. I know my purpose in life is like a battery that lost its charge and alternatives keep looking better and better. Either way, I am such a coward. And I seem to be king of the pity-police.
Anyway, this web site has degraded itself into a platform for all my misery, I feel like the pity-me road started when I left Vegas and devolved into this. Whatever it takes to make change happen for the better I should find it soon or Plan B.
Misery Myself
Posted in nfm!* (not for mom), Things that haunt me, verbal diahrea and tagged anxiety, baggage, failure.