Crack-Up

I don't have any happy pictures.  They are all depressive or gloomy.  This is the best that I could do.

I made a mistake last night.  I took an extended release Xanax somebody gave me.  I woke up sitting on the couch about four hours later with my neck terribly bent.  I could barely walk to bed.  All night long I would wake up spinning.  WTF?  Am I that susceptible to drugs?  I am barely coherent this morning.  It is difficult to move.

And I don't feel any better about life.

It is another cloudy day.  And warm.  It will get to the mid-eighties today and rain tomorrow.  I am living through a pathetic fallacy (link).  If only there was a sympathetic fallacy.

The Xanax didn't seem to help my anxiety, and I am certainly depressed.  Maybe I took the wrong thing.

When Fitzgerarld published essays about his Crack-Up, Hemingway disapproved (link).  I agree with Hemingway about this in many ways.  Still, sometimes. . . .