Insert witty post title here

Now that I’ve started, it’s hard to keep going. Hard to find something worthwhile to say. Ever harder to think of decent reason to say it. Is there a point to this activity? Possibly I’m just wallowing in my own self pity and nobody cares. That’s fair enough. Why should any body care? What am I to anyone else. I’m nobody important. There’s no reason to assume that my particular brand of misery is of more pressing importance than somebody else’s. I mean, I’m doing OK, at the moment. I’m keeping it together. I’m not crying myself to sleep or slicing myself up with razor blades. I’m not contemplating suicide.

So I really can’t complain.

In other news, I’m thinking of buying myself a pot plant. Preferably a Venus fly trap, but a cactus would also be nice.