I am the joke. I am a joke. That’s what my disappointed, punishing inner voice is yelling at me. Starting a new quarter of the year and realized, or finally read again, my first quarter’s goals and none have been met at all. Barely. Not even close. I had 10. They were simple. I may have worked on half of them but I don’t think any of them were completed. I don’t know. I’m not sure. I don’t want to read all the way down just to feel that tightness in my throat get bigger, like something awful is stuck there and not going anywhere. I already have a bit of that feeling and it doesn’t need to get any worse.