Reading this teacher's blog on setbacks and disappointments made me think back on my own. I recall crumbling, falling apart, and dying in the still kicking-screaming world. I think I was scrounging around for a sense of purpose -- nothing really meant anything, and there was nowhere left to go -- nowhere that really mattered, since after this moment, all was lost. All I wanted to do was skip the rest of this lifetime, skip straight to the end, know the humiliation without experiencing it, course quickly through the now-useless existence I was about to live, and escape everything-to-come... because how could it be worth it, after all you'd fought for was now impossible? And the funny thing is, I never even entertained the idea of killing myself. It seemed like a ridiculous thing to do. I only had an abstract sense that I wanted to retreat from the world, never try again -- perhaps more importantly, never hope again, because visions were now certainly vanities, and designs for all things great were unfair, they would never be delivered into your hands -- they would deny you, evade you. 3 months later, the wound still bleeds. :(