Help me out

I'm depressed, man. I haven't exercised today, I haven't played guitar tonight, I haven't written, and I spent too much money at the grocery store which means that my miserable life is gonna collapse and I can't do a fuckin' thing about it. Help me out.

Sure, farmboy. What do you want me to do?

Ummm...make everything better?

It doesn't work that way, farmboy. When there's work involved, you have to do the work yourself. This is your life, you pay your own way.

Well, that fuckin' sucks, don't it?

But wait! If this is my life, then I get to make the rules, right? And so I'm making the rule that I can take a break when I need a break.

That's fine, farmboy. You make the rules. You accept the responsibility also.

I can do that, man. That's fine. It's just that I'm tired and depressed and I'd like a break. That's not too much to ask now, is it?

You tell me. You're the one making the rules.

Okay, I'm taking a break. And I'm feeling guilty about it.

I figured you would.

Yeah. But I'm still taking the fuckin' break, man.