My hands are cracked and bleeding. I’m always forgetting to put cream on them, something to make them soft and supple. They’re all harsh and cracked.
I lay in bed last night and shivered. I wasn’t cold. It was early and I didn’t want to be there. I know this is going to be a bad week; I already want it over, done and gone. It’ll drudge on and I will shiver in my bed.
I’m feeling quite unbalanced. Irritable without cause; this week is really no worse than last week but I feel less able to cope. Today I couldn’t cope with being treated badly. I wasn’t happy with it yesterday either. On Sunday it really got me down and in getting me down repeated itself until I drank myself ill and failed to feel better.
I feel insecure and unstable. I feel unbalanced. I feel like crying, weeping, giving in to it. I hate crying, weeping, giving in to it. It’s too ridiculous when you’re alone. It’s too ridiculous when there’s nothing really wrong.
I had all these things I meant to do but everything’s shifted for this week and I barely have the energy to be tired. I do not have the stamina for work. I am being petty and bitchy and a ridiculous gossip – everyone is more interesting than me, even when they’re not. I don’t want to think about all the things that are wrong but I’ve forgotten what the right is.
Fuck this. I don’t need it.
I think it’s time for Mile High and chocolate ice-cream. Real life be damned.