Postcards from Hell

Did you ever think that your soul could be completely crushed, pureed, eviscerated- in two months time? In two weasly months, a previously robust, thriving soul is now a limp, lifeless shell of its former self. "Dear me!" you say to yourself. "How can this be?!?!?" Indeed. How can it be?

Law school has claimed another victim. So fucking trite, I know. But I'd like to think that my pain is different. My own personal hell on earth must be unique in some way, right? Otherwise what am I? Miserable, depressed, horrified beyond belief on a daily basis... and a cliche?!? I couldn't bear it.

I wish I could say my pain were different, but I doubt it's the case. But I will say that I can't believe that anybody has ever dreaded a place as much as I dread the hallowed halls of my law school. Entering each morning I consider my options: laying down in the street and being run over by a bus, hanging myself from a streetlamp, throwing myself on the subway tracks. When i leave each evening, I cannot wipe the smile off my face. I literally FROLIC all the way home- the world is a glorious, shining, beautiful place. Each stranger on the street is my friend. The honking horns and bus farts are the sweet melody of life.

And then it's the next morning.

This is my life. Alas. Yes, I'm being dramatic. Yes, I'm being a baby. Yes, I am SURELY not making the best of my situation. BUT... I want to complain. Because pain likes this needs to be vented, otherwise I will implode.

But it's all worth it, right? Shitting away your mid-twenties is TOTALLY worth it, because then I'll get a job I hate and will live happily ever after.

Hee.

E3B has suggested I become an alcoholic, numb my pain, and all will be well. I think he's right. Do you think they'd notice that I had vodka in my WestLaw nalgene bottle instead of water? Mwahahah.

Kisses!!!!

--Fbomb