Who won the Talent Quest at the Old Folks Home?

Wearing their fame like a loaded gun. Tied up with a rosary, oh I'm glad I'm not a Kennedy.

Hi, fireflies. How are you all this balmy evening? How are your hearts and minds? Good, I trust. I hope so. I am in the middle of a very un-productive patch at present. I can't get things into any sort of ordered pattern, and as a result the words are harder and harder to get from germination to bloom. It is like I am fighting against my own instincts; I want to write but I am preventing myself from doing so. God damn, it is frustrating. I am out of pills, too, which isn't helping matters. I spent most of yesterday lying on my bed, unable to move or think or feel. I am like a giant cocoon some days: something is alive inside of me - a beating heart - but it is incapable of breaking out to live. Sing me songs to put me back to sleep.

The world is quickly moving on. University is almost back in session, so everyone is leaving. This is the first time in five years that I am not amongst the leavers, and it feels strange and sad. I remember so well the excitement I felt in my first few years; that welling up of happiness and fear that threatens to overwhelm your heart and send you into a fervent, sprawling dance. Oh, they were such happy, happy days. I was so damn alive. But that is the past, and I should be looking to the future. Isn't that the way I'm supposed to think? I am supposed to be a 22 year old bastion of self-confidence and optimism. I am supposed to be taking on the world with impunity. I'm not supposed to be this way. Somebody save me. I'll pay the fee.

I miss the people in my life. The ones who I have alienated and left behind, and the ones who have done the same to me. I still miss her, too. It is absurd. It is sick. It is cruelty of a kind I can't comprehend. The human heart is the most destructive weapon I know of. I am broken, broken, broken. I am battered and tattered and torn apart. I am so damn lonely. I barely talk anymore. I rarely laugh. It is hard just to experience any sort of feeling, good or bad. I am a lobotomy patient. I am a few cans short of a six-pack. I'm half the man I used to be.

I would spend a little time on feeling better, but I can't afford it. Happiness is at a premium these days. I know that taking control is the way to go about it, but these drugs are so counter-productive. They take control of me so that I'm incapable of doing so myself. I feel numb. I think I'm dumb. I might just become a drug addict, a junkie. At least then I might feel something other than loneliness. Fuck, what a pathetic creep I am. Self-loathing to match the best of them. I hate myself and I want to die.

Who is the worst boss you've ever worked for?