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*gestures at entire social media output from this year and last*

See, the joke is that my life has been destroyed.

Not to brag or anything, but I just puked for the first time in six years.

Wherein Jenkins discovers the ultimate weapon.

New comic! Wherein the boys break down some emotional Walz.

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Me: *hates self with a passion*

Also me: *can't abide my own suffering*

New comic! Wherein Cord scores big.

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Society’s like, “You expect people to help you just because you’re struggling on every possible front, consumed by despair, and completely lacking in love and support? Grow up!”

(If anyone's interested, here's the typo-free version.)

New comic! Wherein Cord surges.

Hear me out - an Amish community, but the technology cutoff is, like, 1998.

For someone for whom consciousness has become an exercise in crushing sadness, I sure don’t get very much sleep.

Just muttered, “Not this brain, not today," and I think I may have inadvertently created the next “Live, Laugh, Love.”

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Perhaps my insomnia is a subconscious tribute to this particular '90s programming block.

Can’t decide if this latest bout of sleeplessness is the result of caffeine, anxiety, or caffeine-facilitated anxiety.

I don’t so much have comfort shows as “make my wretched existence a fraction of a scintilla less awful” shows.

New comic! Wherein Jenkins offers his services as a scribe.