For a long time I was really miserable. Really, really miserable. To paraphrase Shirley Manson, I was only happy when it rained. It got to the point that I’m pretty sure that I forgot how to be happy. I call it the “Poor Me” syndrome. It is accompanied by a dispassionate aloofness when in groups of more than four and involves a lot of sighing. And guess what – it sucks. It fucking blows. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of feeling bad for myself. continue reading…
