You know that moment - the one where you think things are already at their lowest and can't get much worse - and then you find out: in fact, they actually can get worse.
Or maybe they were worse than you thought to begin with.
Let's just say that I am quickly approaching the point at which I am finished with the whole thing. As in, done. For good.
For weeks now, I've been having moments of hope. False hope, as it turns out. Just when I think that things might be getting a little bit better, then something bad happens to remind me that that isn't the case, and may never be the case, and it makes everything just a little bit worse.
Just when I think, "Hey, I wasn't mad today," then I find out I have a reason to be mad.
Just when I think, "That must mean that that person cares," I find out that they really don't.
Just when I think, "We've hit the absolute lowest point we're going to hit," I find out things that I didn't know before.
Murphy's Law, right?
Murphy is a bitch.
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