This is post one-hundred, "Hello one-hundred, how are you?".
I'm having one of those days. These "one of those days" days are so regular for me it would be hilarious if it wasn't so damn sad.
Sometimes life is hard. I feel like a mess, I cry and I sweat in the 90 degree heat and it all mixes together into a strange concoction and yet it isn't enough. I could never cry enough to express the pain I feel in my worst moments. Even if I had nothing but happy days for the rest of my life, I still wouldn't be able to explain how intense and awful these years have been.
Life goes on and on and on-- no matter what. Whether I get out of bed, or not, I still grow a day older, I still get one day closer to the end. How can this be? I am realizing I am so marvelous and so unimportant. It's incredible.