It's one of those "why bother" Mondays. You know the kind, where getting out of bed took all the zest for life you had, and the rest of the day is just one long "why don't I just kill myself today?".

Woke up with the dreams in my head, out of reach, out of memory, but they left behind their aftertaste...of fear and loneliness, and the certainty that this isn't ever going to just "get better".

So, I'm at work, cranking up some old-school Joan Jett punk, and hoping I can overcome sadness with anger, though how I manage to get any work done mad, I dunno. I just know I won't do anything but cry, like I am now.