I have hit rock-bottom. Heart and stomach throb with vengeance. Temples gorge with aggravation, anguish, bruising my face with their fury. Why, I ask fate, why has this happened to me? The first I laid eyes on that transparent protractor, it seemed so harmless, so friendly. Blue smiles and a helping hand. Never did I think it would be my crutch! Now, after months of straight-edge binges, my occasional comfort has been taken away from me: and I finally realize just how reliant I am. It was always close at hand, simply a walk to my office away, for the easiest of illustrations to the most meticulous kind. That protractor was my fix for cravings of straight lines. It never failed me, always brought me peace of mind. I soon became complacent. I thought the magic my protractor made would never disappear. Nothing has prepared me for this day, this intervention, that I would lose my tool for perfection. My desk was emptied, the drawers overturned. Even my folders have been ransacked. But alas! It remains missing and my mind is torn in two. I have truly hit rock-bottom.
That is, until I buy a new one. Apologies for lack of comic, as I had planned, for today: without my protractor a decent strip is hard to make! I hope this melodramatic monologue and doodle of terrible composition makes up for it. -Uly
