Blogging from beyond the Realm of the Hungover and into the Valley of Sick as a Dog. My stomach feels so awful. But that’s what five cans of cider, some vodka and too much cheese will do to you. Especially when you’re emotional and sad and self-destructive. Or maybe I’m just imagining that bit. But the stomach complaint is definitely there.
Sunday, February 05, 2012
There are times when I so hate myself, and I’m actually kind of sobbing and kind of tearing at the walls inside my own brain while my mouth is wittering away in some amusing fashion, ho ho, about whatever it is.
– Stephen Fry
I know the feeling. I feel like this constantly. And I feel passive-aggressive. And I feel like I don’t understand you. I’m trying so hard to be everything that I think you want and I’m failing. Because I don’t know what you want. I don’t know you. I’m trying to be myself but that doesn’t work. That rarely works. Sometimes I think it’s working. I think I’m making progress. And then I realise I’m not. And I feel like this. And I’m an enthusiastic person. Despite everything, I am enthusiastic. There’s this song that I love and one of the lines is, ‘With every broken heart, we should become more adventurous’. And that’s basically how I feel, even when I don’t want to feel that way. Even when I want to be cold and alone, I know that I’m not capable of that. I know that I am drawn to people. Always.
I’m so angry and I don’t think I have any right to be. As much as I wish it was, this isn’t something that I have any control over. I am trying so hard to contrive this situation but I can’t control you. I can’t control how you feel. I can’t even control how I feel. I’m so furious. With you. With me. I’m mad at myself for liking the things that I like, for saying the things that I say, and for doing all these stupid things, thinking that they’d make any difference. I guess mostly I’m just angry at myself for having hope.