Here I spit, broken hearted. Golly, did I really write this? Sometimes I hate the person I become when I'm tired and envious. Or, is that: I hate the person I sometimes become when I'm tired and envious? Whatever the idiom may be, the problem remains the same. Some people get drunk on booze, or high on drugs; I get stupid on depression.

The above-referenced entry is actually a fairly tame example of my Mr. Hyde writings. So far, I've sent letters to family and friends that have left people feeling "guilty and attacked," and one email even sent my wife home in tears, terrified I was going to do myself harm.

I tell myself (at the time) that I'm just being honest and that they won't be bothered and if they are they ought to be anyway 'cause they deserve it. You know, all those usual rationalizations; we're all familiar with them, and none of them are true. It's very easy to hurt people who care about you if you accuse them of not caring; and if you're telling these things to people who really don't care, then why are you bothering?

For me, I simply hope I can recognize that when a good friend has great success, they didn't do it just to make me envious. After all, I'm not the center of the universe--my son is.

Bada-bing!