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In desperate need of attention. . .
What is it about the human condition that we create situations in which we depress ourselves, and while in this state the only "solutions" that seem to prevent themselves either perpetuate or worsen what originally depressed us in the first place? Why is it that time heals all wounds when viewed objectively that same factor of time is most likely compounding the wounds it's supposed to be healing? Really it's 1:30 in the morning, I'm exhausted, in bed (alone again of course) and like the title says, I could really use a little positive attention. Hell affection would be too much to ask for, so I settle for what I can get, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one out there that feels like this. For those of you with me on this, you have my condolences.
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