Hello darkness my constant friend

Sometimes the low ones appear and go, this is quite a bad one. Perhaps if I had been a complete arseholed bastard then my life might have gone somewhere near to a plan, or something like I always hoped it would. I’m 49, all I hoped for was to be feeling reasonably good and happy inside. Instead, many times I feel my insides are deliberately carrying on slowly giving me shit. I’m sick to death of surviving and not really being able to live. A half decent treat on Saturday meant missing Monday. Working and surviving is better than being on benefits and surviving, but for obvious reasons both are soul destroying.