Ugh. So insanely swamped at work today. Thank goodness for little victories; otherwise I'd leap through the second floor window...not high enough to kill me, most likely, but I'd probably break something and have to stay home and recuperate for a while...forced vacation. Then again, could my ego sustain time alone like that? How much could I feed off of sympathy? I do that, now, and can't stand it when I do; I expect my shadow to run away, in denial. I wonder if I make any sense anymore? I'll speak, and the words will make sense to me, but do people hear them anywhere near the same way I think they hear them? Or is that just everyday, run of the mill, insert cliche here self-doubt? Hmmm.