Wraetlic is thes wealstan
brosnadth enta geweorc
As far as I remember, these are the first lines of what is known as "the Ruin"--it's an Old English poem written on sheepskin about Roman ruins. Ironically, it has suffered in a fire and is a ruin itself. I studied it in detail during my Old English course in college.
I kind of feel ruinous in my life. Too many things going on, nothing fully satisfying. Feeling like an imposter in the few things I do enjoy. Feeling pretty empty and run down. Feeling like a ruin--something that had so much potential but ended up not being able to withstand the tests of time.