Sometimes I look okay. You know, in over-exposed photos of myself. Mostly I look like this. The way I look now. Just awful. And I feel awful. And I lied and said that it was mostly good, that I felt mostly good. Well, maybe it wasn’t a lie. But at times like this, on nights like this, when I feel awful, it feels as though I’ve never felt good. As though I’ve never been happy and I’ve never felt anything other than just awful.
I am Awful Emma. Everything feels wrong. I’m supposed to be the ‘most successful client’ but I’m not. I’m not cured. I still revert back to these awful thoughts when I can’t deal with the world properly. And I am so passive sometimes. I think that’s the worst part, lacking the energy or even the interest to do something – anything – that might get rid of that awful inertia (the inertia that is probably the cause of the whole thing in the first place). Going on a latenight adventure or opening up that God-awful purple tin box.
This is a pointless post. I’ve said it all before, through various analogies and metaphors. Perhaps I am just a loser with ‘a few big words’ but I’m not pretending to be happy. Because I’m saying it now: I’m not happy.
Right now, I am awful. Tomorrow will be better.