As I gazed up at the gaily-colored letters, I paused and pondered their meaning. In that single moment my heart cried out with loneliness and despair, and I collapsed to the ground, sobbing like a newborn child in a Taco Bell dumpster. My life hadn't turned out the way I wanted. There were no astronauts, circus clowns, parades, or hookers. There was just me--a fat middle-aged bear wandering around a run-down amusement park.

"Big Time Fun!"

The words mocked me, proclaiming over-sized joy like it was thrust into my arms fresh out of the womb. Like I was nothing without it. And not just "fun", oh no. They wouldn't dare declare a realistic, attainable state like "mild sorrow" or "cautious optimism" or "hey, I stopped cutting myself for 5 minutes". This was the 'Big Time'. This was all or nothing.

The wall towered over me, and I was lost. I was nothing.

Big Time Fun? Not today. Not ever.

((Aaaaannnnnd scene. ::curtain falls::))

((Photo of me at Fiesta Village . . . which was invented before "fun", because it's not. *smiles*))