When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,Damn it, my friend, it's always worked before. I'm trying, really, I am. But I am in so much pain right now.
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's Art and that man's Scope,
With what I most enjoy, contented least,
Yet in these thoughts, myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising,
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate,
For they sweet love remember'd such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
--W. Shakespeare, Sonnet #29
Why can't I get past this shit in which I wallow?