I feel like a fraud. I feel stupid. I feel ugly. I feel like my hands are too big. I feel like they must be ugly anyway. I feel like I’m supposed to compete. I feel like I can’t, not just because I don’t want to but because I’ve got nothing to offer. I feel a fool. I feel broken. I feel like the biggest arsehole ever. I feel like nothing I do will ever be enough. I feel like I shouldn’t bother. I feel tired. I feel indefensible – not that it matters when I feel that no one would ever defend me anyway. I feel like the object of amusement. I feel like a non-event. I feel like a non-participant. I frequently feel like I don’t exist. I feel like I don’t matter. I feel a wave of hysteria.
And it doesn’t matter; it’s a moment that will pass.
8 comments:
Oi, why don't you blog about your life instead of channelling mine?
Clearly an oversight on my part... Apologies.
That's the spirit! Pass it will.
Whoa. This doesn't have anything to do with the weekend, does it?
Wait. What? Nails, what's happening?
Dale, yes - sharing and caring, you know?
Rins & Mish, nah, I don't think so. I actually think I might be coming down with something which might explain why I felt so shit at work for the last half of last week and am so tired. Whatever it is it's come packaged with the biggest downer ever. I am weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepy. I never fucking cry! I would very much like if this would go away now.
Yeah, Saturday's drink piking is quite uncharacteristic of you - I figured you had a bug.
Any better today?
Just tired now. Who knows, eh?
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