…no, it is my feelings that are ruthless — ruthless to me and to everyone else. They are inescapable, unforgiving. Tonight I run from myself again but I can’t escape; everything is impossible and sad.
…or maybe my feelings are as sane (or moreso?) than anyone, and it is merely the rest of the world that is ruthless, unfeeling, brutally cynical.
What did a good friend recently say?
“…you were miserable, they were miserable, everyone was miserable…”
It’s all too much. It’s always too much.