Where to start...
No, really, where do I start...? I guess with the truth. I'm lost. I feel so utterly lost and confused, I don't know which way is up anymore. So much has happened over the years, I feel I could write a book, but at the same time, I feel I have accomplished nothing; at least, nothing of actual worth. My existence feels pointless and empty. I am very little, to very few, and even then more of an annoyance or convenience, than of any importance. Even my dogs don't particularly like me, and that perhaps is what I struggle with the most, because for most of my life, dogs have been my saviour, my guiding light, my only truth, and yet now, they are the core source of my daily struggle. How to explain any of this succinctly... If only I were Lady Whistledown... I'm failing at everything, succeeding at nothing. Everything I try to make better, I somehow make worse, no matter my intention. The dogs, for example, we have struggled from the day we brought spud (not his real name!...