My stress levels have been high, my sleep has been subpar, and the sore back muscles are taking up my remaining energy.  And yet, today, I refused to let it ruin my day.

All part of my ups and downs, I suppose, but as far as downs go, this one really hasn’t gone too deep.

That idea almost gave me hope, but re-reading that last sentence has made me realize, I’m counting my happiness by degrees of misery.  I’ve still got a ways to go to reach the standard of living a “normal” person is supposed to have.

I use normal like it’s a good thing to be.  How about this instead: I’ve still got a ways to go to reach the standard of living I personally idealize?  Not that my perfect life is that far away from what this society defines as normal—I think.

Come to think of it, my expectations aren’t that high.  Of course, I can hear the sage wisdom screaming back at me: that’s exactly your problem.  But I only know what I’ve known.  It’s all any of us know, what experience has taught us.  My experience has taught me that people are mostly sad creatures who hurt have hurt each other blind.  I’m not egotistical enough to think I’m an exception, but I try to be.  I try desperately to work out my problems.

I know, I said yesterday that I try too hard.  That stands, but I can’t just do nothing, and I’m trying to find moderation.  I just—

***

I can’t continue.  My skull is crawling.  My mind is screaming, and nothing soothes it.  My words seem loud and obnoxious in my own ears.  I’m tortured with thoughts of what they sound like in yours.