The upshot of this is that I'm looking at having the shittiest Christmas on record. Christmas is always an emotionally fraught time of the year and I thought I had my bases covered with wechsler, but his kind invitation was made before he'd checked with the actual people who own the house he will be staying with (you know, the parents). Now I am looking at what I really think is going to be a period of deep blackness and feelings of utter failure, uselessness, and social non-connectedness without end. I don't want to have to deal with this but they haven't make the Eternal Sunshine pill so I can somehow skate over it without bottoming out. My finances aren't really sufficient to pay for me to get to the states to my best friend's house (crazy is always welcome there and there are chickens and a pig to distract me) and neither are they enough to pay for my sister or butterbee to visit me. booklectic has invited me to hers but I have this terror I'm still going to fall down the hole due to, well, pre-existing mentalness on my part. Then I look at the time after Christmas - you know, the rest of my life - and I think, now, what really do I have to look forward to here? Working? That's really it? To be honest, just seeing shows and writing reviews of them isn't making for a life that really seems like it's all that worthwhile. It just feels like sitting around killing time until I die, with my big accomplishment being enriching my employers. And when I look at it that way, I don't really see what I have to look forward to after Christmas, either, or, really, ever.