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2012-02-24 - 8:26 a.m.

I've set the bar so low, I ought to be able to walk over it. But I'm lying on the ground looking at the sky, and feeling a dull throb of pain in my arm, and guessing I must have tripped over it, again.
Maybe this is just a random outburst of late-night self-pity. But maybe it's actually the shape of my life. For a lot of people, life is shaped by failure, one big one or lots of little ones. Why would I be an exception?
Maybe there's a way to live "well", regardless. I hope so. If success is the only option, I'm fucked.

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