Envy.

Armed with the new-found knowledge that I am in fact something of a neurotic shit, I do at least have something of an understanding of why when I see a good friend doing well, I have a little pang of resentment go off inside me. Of course, it's a hateful thing to admit to anyone when you're first instinct when you hear that your mate has a new girlfriend is envy and resentment. 

How's that cunt got laid and not me? Me. me. Me. I'm amazing. No one else. ...And thus the cycle of being a neurotic shit continues. 

I'm trying, desperately hard, in honestly to try to arrest this thought process. In truth though the thing that's bothering me most about it is the fact that I'm trying to change instinct. This is pretty much ingrained in me, and there's a truth in the idea that I won't be able to change my way of thinking because I don't believe I can, and I don't believe I can change the way I think because I can't. A charming paradox, if you will. 

Abyss.

He'd been thrown into the great abyss. Other's voices washed over him like the intangible sound of great leaden anchors dragging along the rutted, uneven sea floor. He felt himself sinking lower, yet with no reference or knowledge of yet how much nether he would scuttle.

The abyss was a black, shapeless form that enveloped all who so much as approached it. Michael had not merely approached it; he had been sent hurtling in, head first by the news that he was once again alone. He tried to stem the tide, yet the mere concept of resistant struggle was the stuff of myth and legend; the Stygian had void paralyzed him as it drew him further down..