I've been feeling a little strange all day. My heart felt funny and I was shaky. I had a sudden impulse to go to the range and shoot my gun, which I haven't done in a year for fear I would point the thing at my own head. I went to a Toastmasters meeting and acted like a nut, something that I always do when I'm upset and trying not to show it. Afterward I go to dinner by myself. I'm one of those people that can be perfectly content to eat by myself with a book or magazine for company (usually). I was thinking of how sick I am of trying to be pleasant and nice and to make friends; maybe I should just be a cast-iron bitch all the time and save myself the disappointment. So I'm reading an old issue of Scientific American. An article said that we are less likely to make a significant change in our lives between 30 and 60, that even with a major life event to help us along, we're usually stuck with the familiar. In other words, I have been widowed at the worst possible time, in my 40s, because I can't remake my life. Also, the article talked about how few people manage to make even a moderate change in their life. It used a term, false hope syndrome, to describe people who try to change something hoping that one change can lead to other good changes, but it never works out. It gave the specific examples of quitting smoking and losing weight. In other words, I'm not going to get this weight off, which means that I'm never going to be attractive to anyone. Sure some loser of a guy might settle for me, but I'm not willing to settle for someone who would settle for me. That means I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life, probably. It was all I could do to get out of the restaurant before I burst into tears. I've been crying ever since. Why am I putting myself through the torture of getting up every morning when there's no hope? I might write my suicide note tonight.