Do you know, dear reader, the feeling of being completely unable to focus on anything long enough to accomplish even the slightest bit of work? That seems to be the dogma that rules my life these days. I can't pick up a pencil without suddenly finding some other activity infinitely more interesting.

Thus, I have become rather useless. Like a piece of machinery, rusty and archaic and empty. A shell. Fun to look at for about five minutes, but otherwise pretty boring.

I don't like it. What happened to my skin?