It all adds up to a day like today. Sitting in an extremely uncomfortable office chair, hunching over a laptop, eating Hot Tamales, and reading things that make me cry. It's as if I'm addicted to the tears, and yet somehow immune to them. They surface and slide down my cheeks and splash on the desk in front of me, but their meaning gets lost somewhere along the way. The intent behind the sorrow loses it's poignancy and I'm somehow left void of any sense of their purpose. There are days like today where I wonder what I'm waiting for. What's holding me back, keeping me down, telling me to stop? Sometimes I think the Lord does that, and sometimes I think I do that. I go back to the familiar because it's familiar, but it's a cold comfort and even a little evil in it's familiarity. I'm trying to be happy for those who are seeing their dreams come to life, because it's good to be happy for those things. But I also feel sad for myself. Yes people.