I’m having a crisis.

I’m not special in this particular problem. Lots of people are having crisises. Actually, they’re probably suffering more than I am. Or so I’m told on a regular basis. I should just be happy I wasn’t in pakistan or new orleans.

Thats a great concept. Theory if you will. But when you’re looking at your current situation and thinking “wow, this is pure shit” the idea that someone is having a worst time to you isnt comforting. It’s a little deppressing. It’s like “Wow, you mean that on top of all this shit I could lose my whole family in a mud slide and all of a sudden be diagnosed with testicular cancer? Thats fucking awesome. “

I’m on the edge. I’m at a point where I’m not sure whats up or down. What seems like an opportunity is actually my demise covered in promises of success and power.

I’m being cryptic. Thats just fricken cryptic. I’m done writing. Things could change drastically profesionally. Things have changed drastically personally. Friends have departed and life is shades of pain. I find myself spiraling into a dark place from which I know not the path to return from it.

And Jimmy cracks corn and no one seems to care.

That was random.

I’m out.

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