Did you ask me how I was?

You usually won't associate me with a sunny disposition, but neither am I really gloomy until somebody asks me the question 'How are you?'. Then I feel an obligation to be depressed. I never knew why, until today when I drew up a list of circumstantial evidence to substantiate and corroborate my claim to being dull and dreary.

My laugh lines are fast dissapearing and I'm not happy about it.
I look down when I walk and talk.
I stare aimlessly down the road as I puff into my cigarette.
I would rather sleep than go out.
I can't read anymore.
More often than not, I don't complete a movie, or a book. I've started reading comics.
I've stopped calling my friends, and they've stopped calling me.
I've stopped playing football, only watch it these days.
My eyebags are larger than my eyes and I've got pretty big eyes to start with.
I hate work..... still.
Hey in case you're wondering, I'm still sexy, but I don't feel that way anymore too...
Bugger!

They're writing songs of love..
But not for me.
A lucky star's above..
But not for me...

Boo Hoo Hoo!!!!!