Today I was sitting quietly as my family hurried around me, shuffling boxes, packing and loading the truck in preparation for a move. Staring into space, that nothingness that knows silence again I softly said to myself, “I don’t want to be here any more.” Not in this life, not at this time, not here in this place.

I struggle to learn a new job when I was previously excelling. I struggle just to sit for eight hours a day, ever paranoid that it is not enough, that my efforts are not sufficient. I feel like an idiot and yet I know that this feeling will pass.

This struggle that I have been experiencing stretched itself past the moment into theĀ infiniteĀ that I can perceive of my life; will I always be miserable, tearing my way out of yet another mud pit — time and time again.

And there is nothing I hate more than self pity, wallowing sadness and insufferable despair.