A little while ago I was shaking and on the verge of tears to which I would not give in. For some unknowable reason, tonight, I was overwhelmed by... the grief of hopeless despair. I would not cry because I know that tears will change nothing.

In this state, I know with certaintly that my life is over. That I will never know love again, that I will live out my life, if I choose to "live it out," trapped and powerless, useless and unloved, achieving nothing, worthless.

In this state, I know that I can't write to save my life, that I've wasted all my opportunities, that Life has passed me by and that I am now too old to even make an attempt at carving out a career, much less a life. It's too late. Many years too late.

I can feel tears in my eyes now as I write this. I feel as if I could fly apart from the frustration of knowing there is nothing I can do, that this is the way my life is. That I have lost everything. I have lost it forever.

I've had these feelings, these certainties before. In fact, I've had them most of my life. I'm used to them. When I was young, I thought I was unique. Like Luke, when I was a teenager I thought my life was all but over at seventeen, and would certainly be over if I hadn't made my mark by twenty. I was certain it was too late.

From time to time over the years, the "certainty" has crept up on me and made me and those around me miserable for the duration. When I had work I loved, and people to love, the feeling, those very few times I even noticed it, was no more than a vague uneasiness. But a time came when love died, and my life and dreams died-- worse: were seemingly stolen by others-- and that time the feeling that overwhelmed me was almost unbearable. It nearly killed me.

I've always been stubborn. And independent. And always I have known myself better than anyone else could. And I think long and hard before I act. When the feeling was at its worst, I stubbornly held on-- not because I thought I could win or because I thought it would be wrong not to, though. I held on only because I am very, very strong, and hanging on tirelessly was something I could do.

The dreadful grief of hopeless despair of that worst of times finally did pass. And I was left with the knowledge that I could hold on in the face of such a feeling. I knew that I could ride it out, no matter how bad it seemed. I knew that for certain.

I hate these times. I hate feeling I'm stuck at the end of the universe and there's no Obi Wan to save me. I hate feeling that Life has passed me by. I hate "knowing" that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life, that I'm a talentless, self-indulgent, loser with no one to blame for my failures but myself. I hate the "certainty" that others are enjoying all the wonderful things I will never have-- and, if you want to know, I hate those people who have the things I have only dreamed of having for being happy. (Of course they're happy. Why wouldn't they be happy? They're living my best dreams, dammit! Bad cess to the whole bunch of them! A pox on all their houses!)

But these feelings won't last. I assure you, they won't last. So remember that. And hang on.

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