What a mess

I'm giving nothing away (though a couple of people have said I'm looking pale) but I feel terrible on the inside. I can't wait to get out of here, go home and bury myself in my couch. I really enjoy that these days: turn off the TV, read James Reston Jr.'s Galileo, A Life, play with Mimi and try and pretend like it all means anything.

Of course, the crazy thing is that it will all mean something, once this panic bullshit goes away. They'll fool me again and I'll start to hope that I've rounded a corner and that I can look forward to the rest of my life and blah, blah, blah.

One thing I know is that I'm never going to be all woe is me...some people have physical handicaps, others have character handicaps, still others have opportunity handicaps...mine is mental and that's all it ever can be. As long as I understand that, I don't need to worry about why this is happening to me. It's just part of being me.