Shooting fish in a barell

I'm sick. Really sick. Fever, flu whatever , you name it, I've had it. Work is getting to me. People are getting to me. I've grown soft. I'm letting people get to me. Why... How... You have no idea what I'm going through. How can you say you understand when you clearly don't. Yea, I care about you but evidently nothing is enough.

I'm doomed to spend the rest of my life messed up and probably alone. I can't wait to get away from here. Get away from her, get away. Get away from everything that could potentially cause me anymore distress.