Confused and tired and sad. Spent an entire afternoon trying to write a paper and only got 6 pages of it done. Easter used to be fun once. Sigh. Sometimes it really does seem as if life is just day after day after day of doing things just because they have to be done, interacting with people only because they're there, breathing, eating, sleeping, living, dying. It's like there's a great big hole in my chest, and there's something missing there that will never ever be filled, and no matter how much I try, I can't find the thing that's just the right shape to plug that hole. What's even worse is that there are all these smaller holes: inadequacies, fears...wrongness, and like a leaky vessel, I feel everything pouring out of me and away like good wine gurgling down the drain. And no one else stops to say: look, I understand, it's OK that you're broken. No one gives half a damn. I'm like the ugly painting in the art exhibition that people stop at for 5 seconds, long enough to say: "God, that's an ugly painting." and then they walk by and out the door and into the sunshine and forget they ever saw it.