Truth in Advertising

I am having one of those days where my mood and the weather are finding themselves wearing complementary colors, the black of one accented against the dingy gray of the other.
My stomach is tied up in a thousand knots, and my head hurts from hours spent banging it against a quite stout - if only proverbial - brick wall. Paranoia hovers like dense smoke, billowing in acrid, bitter scented waves.
There is no way you could tell it by looking at me, with my quick smile and laughing eyes, handing out good will in eighteen brightly colored shades of cooperation.
But I appear to be deep in the throes of a martyr-without-a-cause phase.
And I hate this about myself more than you will ever know.