A moth walks into a podiatrist's office. The podiatrist says, "Moth, what's the problem?" And the moth says, "What's the problem. Well, doc, where do I begin? Every day I get up to another cruel sky. It's like the sun is mocking me as I begin the gruelling preparations for another 8-hours of slogging in meaningless toil for my boss, Gregor McIvanichisky. A grey self, captive in a grey cubicle in a grey office with no windows that I might see the grey clouds beyond... I just sit in my cubicle as I feel the throbbing ache of the best days of my life being raped away into a monotonous, forgettable slurry of irrelevant corporate drudgery. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't think my boss even knows. All he knows is that he has power over me. And my children...my daughter is always on her cellphone, texting and emailing. I haven't spoken real words to her in weeks. My oldest son is never home and when he is, he's locked in his room listening to angry music. My youngest son, he's only 4, I look at him and he asks me to play... and I feel nothing. No love, no tenderness... just a void. And when I look in the mirror...I don't recognize the face staring back at me. It's aged so much from the boyish looks I remember. The years have carved deep lines of despair, worry and anguish. Dark, hollow eyes where once gleamed hope and excitement. Thin lips unable to find the smile of the happy, old days. If only I could find the courage to reach over to the side table and remove the loaded gun. And then find the strength to pull back that hammer as the chamber rotates, clicking solidly into place...Raising it to my temple for the final squeeze that will erase the last shreds of my existence from this cold grave of a life wasted away." And the podiatrist says, "Well, Moth, you're in pretty rough shape. You need to get some help. But why did you come to me? You need a psychiatrist!!" And the moth says... "Because the light was on."