Last year, for the first time ever, I made a New Years resolution. I had a list of seven categories of my life to improve on. Physical, mental, educational, social, financial, security and environmental were the categories. I needed to have actual quantifiable improvement on all or at least most of those categories. It's November now and I have only had minor improvement in three. I am usually a reasonable person. If I had reasonable success or at least the beginnings of improvements in one or two more categories, I could let it go. But I don't. My New Years Resolution was my last ditch effort to discontinue a lifetime of failure. I have always been depressed. I was there when my father (and protector) was killed. My mother was mentally ill and abusive. The man who saved me from my mother's house was also abusive and now wants nothing to do with me other than sex because I am apparently the depressed robot from Hitchhiker's Guide. I have no friends and no family that would own me. My sister regularly takes advantage of my kindness and I know she would never make the same sacrifices that I've made for her. My life sucks so, my final plan was to improve myself, or else. I could take comfort in success. Any success. But I can't be a thirty year-old no one. It drags out the inevitable and wastes resources. I've planned most carefully and I have my resolve. I don't even know why I'm posting. Maybe I just want one more thing to fail at.