The longest yard

The slimmest hope, the slightest chance, the tiniest glimmer of a possibility, somewhere on the horizon. That's the only thing keeping me from giving up. I wonder what it'll be like on the other side of the deadline.

I'd be stupid to say that my life is bad. It's been good. I've been fortunate. I had a lovely childhood, I'm in the best of health, I have a job. The only things I can complain about are things that are my fault, and more importantly, pretty trivial.

But that doesn't really help, does it? Sitting alone at home, trying to think of something you're proud of about yourself, trying to think of a single reason to refute the label of "failure" that you've taken upon yourself. At times like those, it doesn't help to think of how fortunate you've been. It's not the past or present sorrows you're trying to eliminate, it's the sense of satisfaction and yes, happiness, you're trying to achieve. It's very unfortunate that the human mind isn't simpler. If only happiness was the absence of sorrow.

I wonder if they're telling the truth, these people who claim that they're "happy just to be alive", and how they're "living every moment". Is it only people with near-death experiences who can appreciate an otherwise mediocre life? If so, I could really use one of those. Easy enough to arrange I imagine. It's just the "near" part of the "near-death experience" that poses a slight problem. But hey, as long as I'm waiting for "something" to happen, I guess I could just add this to the list too.