Sometimes I just can't waltz into work like a breath of fresh floral air, ready to pounce on whatever lame or ridiculous project that lay before me, product of an outside evil with no sense of real time.
Sometimes I just can't listen to someone else’s issues because I have my own swirling through the undiscovered cave that is my mind.
Sometimes I just can't deal with the people closest to me and their melodramatic way of showing they care. Middle child syndrome can be conditioned to function in line with the rest of the world, and being an immature Mr. Clean does not give you a license to dole out relationship advice. Turn that mop inward, dammit.
Sometimes I just can't keep a straight face, not fall victim to the devil's advocate, keep comments to myself.
Life is frustrating. But even more so when you feel like a Stretch Armstrong doll in the jaws of a pack of wolves. A feeding frenzy of emotion, a roller coaster sickness, a waterfall of tears. It's an amazing thing to feel that much emotion, even for someone else. Someone else who just can't -- can't put any more heart and soul into the wee hours of the day, who just can't seem to move up the wobbly ladder, prove themselves worthy of another slap in the face.
It seems all anyone would have to do is cry uncle, throw up the tattered white flag, turn the table on the shits who put them in the dungeon in the first place. But sometimes, we just can't ...
