I lost Michael Scott. And it feels like somebody took my heart, and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears. And, at the same time, somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledgehammer. And then, a third guy walks in and starts punching me in the grief bone. And I'm crying, and nobody can hear me. Because I am terribly, terribly, terribly alone.
“That’s the whole trouble. You can’t ever find a place that’s nice and peaceful, because there isn’t any. You may think there is, but once you get there, when you’re not looking, somebody’ll sneak up and write ‘fuck you’ right under your nose.”—J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (via yourmoustache)