You see, they're getting to me. Like some kind of gross-boy-cooties-water-boarding, they're wearing me down.
I was gonna tell you the whole story with a bunch of justifying and pleading, but the truth of the matter is that I just can't. There's no defense ... beyond, perhaps, understanding the psychological need for developing coping mechanisms.
To the point, today I actually said the following. Don't judge, you can't know my pain.
Oh my gawd, after the last three days
I could squat and shit on the kitchen table
and I'd still be doing better than you!
All I will offer up in my defense is this: no child heard me and Paul Bunyan nearly peed his pants laughing at how the mighty (me) have fallen.
Maybe there is still hope for me?
Damn, guess not.