Life is really messy. I realize that's not exactly an earth-shattering revelation, but it's something that's difficult for me to accept, so I try to avoid thinking about it.

There it is, though, in black and white. Life is messy.

And I think trying to not have your life be a mess is completely a waste of time; however, I will continue to try because I like lost causes and also because giving up would just be ridiculous.

I know myself. I can't stop trying.

The only bright spot I can see is the fact that everyone else is messed up, too. That makes it feel friendlier and less like I'm the only one who has tangled herself in a situation from which there is no escape. Also, if I try to remember that most of my messes are due to my super mega high expectations for myself, and that no one else really expects or needs these things from me, that should help.

Right?

But it stinks when you've disappointed yourself.

Oh, well. Another week to conquer, and maybe this time I'll do slightly better than last time. Which is progress. Progress is good. I think. Sigh. 

Mondays are evil.