So I had a strange weekend. You know those days where there’s this weird mixture of feelings? Like, one minute you desperately need a hug and the next, you’re doing spasticated dance moves with your mother. Maybe it’s PMT. Maybe it’s alcohol. Maybe it’s this distinct feeling that change is upon me and it could go either way. Because as much as I approve of me and how much my life has changed for the good, there are lots of days where I resent everything about myself. And, yeah, okay, maybe those days do coincide with the monthlies or nights out when I’ve had one sip of Bulmers too many, but I don’t know. Not nice feelings. Not nice thoughts.
And the only way I can think of to fix it is to be good. Brush my teeth at least twice a day, take off my make-up before I go to sleep, take my tablets as I should. I can’t get the balance right though. I find it very difficult to pretend to be normal. People would think there was something wrong with me anyway if I started talking about clothes and holidays and stopped complaining and occasionally bringing up rim-jobs. They’d know something was up.
You know what’s funny? This isn’t me being conceited or anything (except that it is), but I don’t think anyone else finds me as funny as I find me. I mean, my friends don’t find rim-jobs all that humorous. Hmm. I think that came out wrong. They don’t find talking about rim-jobs all that humorous. Whereas I do.
Life is strange.