(no subject)

So I made the mistake of indulging in some examination of my life this week. I really wish I hadn't done that--you'd think I'd know better by now. Whenever I really think about where my life's been going, everything that anyone around me says or does touches on a vast web of insecurities, thereby alerting the spider of self-pity that it's time to truss me up, slice open my chest, rip out my still-beating heart and cut it into little pieces to be dried in the sun for use in cheap maracas to be sold to heat-dazed tourists, all of whom are having much more fun than I am, even the ones suffering from Montezuma's Revenge.

Sorry, that metaphor ran away from me somewhere north of Guadalajara.