There's something to be said about a glass half full . . .

Sometimes we can't help but throw a pity party for ourselves. We know it's not right, and we know it's somewhat pathetic, but sometimes it just feels so good to feel sorry for yourself. It feels like a natural reaction- the response to fight or flight that is the easiest. And once you give in, it's that much harder to stop. It's almost as if you just get sucked under by the current and then you just begin to drown. You can kick and kick and kick and fight to get back to the surface, but there just seems to be something in your very essense that says you can't get afloat again. Maybe it's not even a pity party. Sitting down and facing reality sucks. Plain and simple. Maybe those who feel awful all the time are really the ones who have the greatest grip on life and on reality. Afterall, from the minute you're born you are dying. It's like buying a car: as soon as you drive it off the lot, the car's value keeps decreasing in a downward spiral. Maybe we're like that. Maybe once we're exposed to the world, we just start going in a downward spiral until someone saves us or we die. All it takes is someone to reach out into that black abyss. Maybe all we really want in life is that anchor, that person that will save us. Someone who knows we're drowning without even being told. And maybe those of us who throw that pity party are coping because we haven't been saved yet. Our knight in shining armour hasn't come on his nobel mount. And maybe.. just maybe.. the pity party is so appealing because it feels so good when it's over. It's just a quick round of who's life sucks the most. It's like that quote.. Why do we keep hitting ourselves with a hammer? Because it feels so damn good when we stop.