Pickles Come In Barrels Because They Know What It's Like Outside.

Essentially, What the fuck? Why is it always exploding? I'm always fucking up. Endlessly. I'm starting to feel like myself 30 years ago. Depressed. Lost. Wanting to tear it all down and start over. Still, NO ONE fully understands me. I allow myself to be walked on constantly. I'm involved in situations I really don't want to be in. Maybe I should morph back into a hermit again. No expectations, no disappointments.