Posthuman Blues

Last night I felt compelled to document how I felt for reasons more practical than self-pitying; for better or worse, this blog has become a way of sorting through thoughts that may only be tangentially related to standard tropes. (Alien visitation, anybody? Or how about a nice steaming bowl of greenhouse apocalypse?)

Today's been . . . better. At least in the sense that I think I know where I stand. I no longer feel that placating automatic response to choose ersatz happiness over emotional honesty -- or at least I'd like to think so. Time will tell.

Truthfully, I felt slightly guilty even posting yesterday's despairing tirade. The bit about watching the walls, while true enough, was unsettlingly personal. And I didn't want to alarm anyone, because as dejected as I feel I'm not on the verge of complete apathetic abandon . . . although sometimes it can feel that way, and I may have very well given the impression that I viewed my continued existence as a write-off.

More to the point, I want to thank everyone for the unexpected show of support and advice. Not to mention for putting up with the erratic content: Angsty confessionals make for bad blogs.

Now on with the show.