"It's the end of the day and I'm fanning through the all-too-familiar smoke of anxiety and general sense of dread and foreboding that attaches itself to my soul when I'm otherwise disposed. It's thick today and fixed to me like a leech on a lazy cow's udder."
I may just turn my sight into a redirect to this guy. I know I've already mentioned this blog, but DAYUM!
Go read this guy and then come back and tell me how my lame attempts at phrase crafting suck syphilitic monkey-ass. I'm a hack! Take the keyboard away from me and hand me a clay tablet and a stick. Maybe some charcoal bits to make cave paintings.
I'm not worthy.