On my mind's keyboard I'd composed an angry rant fueled by the sour acidity of my despondency. Having realised that I'd missed the closing date for a rare job vacancy that would probably quite suit me, a vacancy that I might be in with a chance with, in an environment that I knew, and with a big salary leap to take me out of fiscal No Man's Land, I was feeling raw with regret and self-loathing. Who need financial security? Who needs any sort of career path?
I'd felt like I'd had the stuffing knocked out of me.
I'd even got the lyrics lined up for some pertinent songs that were rattling round my internal jukebox. Paranoid Android, for one. Halo Eight track 13 for another. Blimey, teenage angst or what!
And then I speak with someone who's struggling with something else and I realise just how an incredibly minor and selfish my own problems are.
If I was a religious man I'd end this piece in a state of inner calm and empathy with two words for whomever is reading them: Bless you.