Spinning round and going nowhere fast.
My thoughts about life, and the feelings that accompany them, fluctuate wildly from day to day. The awareness that no matter what course my musings take during the day, I might awake the next morning a different person with a completely alternative collection of questions, ideas, hopes, worries and emotions, makes it very difficult to feel as though I'm making any progress. Perhaps movement, tortuous and futile though it may seem, is good, and though it may be coloured with a negative and frustrated tint, perhaps it is preferable to simply wallowing and stagnating in a permanent state of hopeless and obdurate dissatisfaction and despondency.