Unironically telling a well-wisher commenting on my awful luck that "life is pain." Yet here we are, still, with the moon doing such-and-such and whatever the crows and also vague paroxysms about the past. You know the deal. I let myself cry a little bit tonight, just in the dramatic, romantic way where I feel the tears on my face and then brush them off with my fingers, look at the moisture angrily, like it's some kind of betrayal. I'm so dumb that it would actually be funny if I didn't have to live out my life in the role.