Ever heard that Leonard Cohen line “4 o'clock in the afternoon and I didn't feel like very much?” That’s usually how I feel on my groggy-I-don't-know-what’s-going-on-in-my-life-anymore days. Guess it helps me stop just short of entering into victimhood territory, because if Leonard Cohen can feel so gloomy then maybe it’s not so bad after all; there is still art to be made and stories to be told. Life goes on, and all that, in spite of the darkness. But it’s still 2:17 PM and I just arose from my bed half an hour ago, having forcibly squeezed my eyes shut upon each ever-hopeful fluttering attempts to drag me into the hellish daylight that as of recent is riddled with rather unbearable acute anxiety. I will painfully hold on to the last few hours I have left where my brain isn't functioning amidst constant chaos, thank you very much. I used to wait tables, and once during a Sunday morning brunch shift a co-worker disdainfully remarked “H