I'm not trying hard, I'm not getting well, I'm not improving, I won't do anything

Despair has a way of bleeding in without notice, like groundwater seeping through the unseen fractures in a basement wall: small, glistening rivulets overlooked one moment, irreparably damaging photo albums and appliances the next. Clearly, there is a crack in everything, but it is evident — now more than ever — that it is more than just the light that can enter a space through those fissures. Truth is, woe and melancholy, and all their ne'er-do-well bedfellows, can slip their way inside just as easily... and sometimes what little illumination reluctantly squeaks its way inside serves only to cast a spotlight on this grim cast of characters acting out their endless tragedies. No matter how repetitive the scenes, or how exaggerated the theatrics, these transfixed eyes can never seem to tear themselves away; a set break may just be the best I can hope for on any given day. Yes! If anything at all is seized, let it be an opportunity to seek out refreshments to sustain me through the next act. Maybe a bite of something sweet, maybe a drink of something with a bite, or maybe even that ever-elusive chance to relieve myself. These moments in all their fleeting glory — is that all there is? Is it greedy to ask for more? Because there is so much left unsaid, and still more left undone, as the chimes ring out, disapproving ushers nudge me back to my seat, and before I know it, curtain's up.