Filth Infatuated

Took a trip to Richmond last week to try for a position with the NHRA. Probably not such a good idea. I don't feel I did a good job with that.
Last night I told hubby that I wasn't happy. And I feel like an asshole because he's trying so hard to make me happy. I'm not happy about anything honestly. Not just him but everything in general. He asked if I had found someone who I am interested in more than him. And the answer is no. I haven't found anyone like that, if I had it would make things less complicated in a sense. I would have a reason why I'm not happy. I'm just seriously not happy and it really is scary. I am scared to delve deeper in my unhappiness and find the reasons why. Because if I find the reasons and I start eliminating them, then I'll end up with nothing. And that won't make me happy either. Damn this chemically imbalanced brain. Damn the prozac that glosses over the problems to where they compound to skyscraper problems. Damn the need for something more.