If so, please share.
I worked really hard on something that I thought was pretty darn good. Sent it off to someone I've been collaborating with for comments. He sent one sentence back. "How many ways do I have to tell you you're not funny?"
At least it's efficient.
This is a low ebb. I wish I were a drinker. This would be a really good night to throw back a fifth of whiskey and let the world go all blurry and fade away.
I wish I were one of them hardbody types so I could go out to a bar, find a girl, and not have to sleep alone tonight.
I wish I had more talent and drive and less capacity to feel the sting of failure. I wish I could just slip in with the crowd and be happy with that.
Wish in one hand, shit in the other. See which one fills up first, right?
I'll be okay. I'll listen to pearl jam, watch some bad TV, eat some strawberries, go to sleep. Life will march on. I'll figure out how to go forward toward my goals because I have no other direction to go. Sideways doesn't fucking work, even if it was a good movie*.
But one of the real worries I have is what if these feelings never go away. My dad was a success by almost any standard and he still killed himself. I am his son. I get depressed just as easily. I won't end my life, I've seen what that does, but never being rid of this feeling? That's a harsh sentence in and of itself.
*Pinot Noir, bitches?