. . .

I am truly pathetic

a) If you took my last email (or the subject thereof) seriously, shame on you.

Not that I expect you to, but I've had trouble recently with people taking what I say literally, so I decided to laugh until I coughed up something disgusting.

b) I have been sitting here for the past, oh, hour or so, checking my email every 30 seconds, in the forlorn hope someone out there (HINT HINT HINT HINT) would send me long, involved, totally random email in order to amuse and entertain me. Or anyone would send me any email at all, in fact.

Feel the waves of angst roll off me.

Actually, have I done one of my overblown rambling fits of angst-ridden whining about existance recently? If so, feel free to skip the next paragraph or so. You could actually skip the entire rest of the message, as it probably won't continue for long after the next paragraph. You could even, if you wanted to, set up a killfile (or filter, depending) that would redirect any messages coming from me straight into the trash, but I think that's going a tad bit overboard.

Let's see. Angst. Hmm. Oh yes.

Why dost thou torment me, oh putrescence that is life? Why do I wallow in the darknesses of despair? The cold wind blows about me, numbs me, as it has numbed others before me, but I struggle on. None can understand the pain, no matter how they cry out, "I see! I know!" They know not. A few, brief moments of red are the only things that brighten the blackness, as I rage helplessly against all of creation.

Once I believed that though I stumbled through the darkness, still there was a light to be found somewhere, over the horizon, across the dell. I thought the darkness perhaps was not around me, but within, that I was blind to the sun.

What an idealistic fool I was. In my younger days.

All is dark.

That's quite enough of that. Now I've made you cry. I will go now.