Ah, people taken over with the poison of pretension. I hope that I never have acted as if I had all the answers. All I have is thousands of questions. 

I have found myself in a place where I have  lost any kind of beauty in the world. Everything is dark, joyless, melancholic. It's my fault, I know. The world has not changed - and I, in some vaporous, indefinable way, have. And certainly not for the better. 

It's as if I fight a constant battle everyday with myself, with my dark self, like some kind of ridiculous, self-indulgent movie (I'm looking at you, Spiderman 3). 

Well, I could be dead and that would be far worse. I don't know - I think I have disappointed myself in a deep, terrible way, which is worse than any other kind of disappointment. I don't appreciate myself like I once did. I know this sounds ridiculous, like some kind of Richard Simmons bullshit where everyone hugs each other and cries. Eh, whatever. I have to take out the trash. 

So filled with self-loathing that I don't know how I go on. Alone in a quiet house, face buried in my hands, sobbing senselessly with great, hitching breaths. Sobbing not about one thing but about everything, feeling so abandoned, useless, loveless, forgotten. Overtaken by a bitter, cruel kind of irony, the kind of irony which finds humor even in the darkest, most horrible of acts. Self-pity, self-loathing, pathetic. Lost on a path obscured. 

I cannot take comfort in anything anymore. Not in my relationship, my family, the divine, and certainly not myself. And here it is again - to run away, disappear, lose myself in the deserted plains and mountains and valleys of places unseen. All my life I have just wanted to run away, even as a child when I threatened to bundle all my things in a blanket and sleep in the bushes outside, as if that would solve everything. I still think it would solve everything.

God, how I want to start over. Lord, how I wish You existed. 

The day is cloudy, misty, joyless. Wanting to disappear like the raindrops into the ground.