I’m exhausted. I think I went to sleep around half 3 this morning. I woke up for the first time at 8, then dozed on and off until 9.20am when I had to get L up. I got home at about 9.55am. I’ve spent the morning/afternoon in bed watching films (so far Show Me Love and Some Kind of Wonderful) and ate a huge takeaway. Also went for a quick goodbye lunch at McDonalds with a friend who’s leaving today. I’m really glad I saw him but was so glad it was brief, I found it exhausting.
Just caught a glimpse of W through a mutual friend’s Facebook pictures. They’ve gone to Amsterdam this weekend. Just seeing the back of his head in a picture made me feel like sobbing/barfing. It hasn’t hurt in a while but with a glimpse it all rushed back and hit me in the stomach. I don’t know what that means, if anything. I hastily avoided it.
I lay awake thinking last night. I regret not having written far more diaries or blogs in my life. I sat and read through some of my recent posts and saw so much of myself. I wish I’d cared enough about what I thought as I was growing up. Instead it’s all just a smoky blur of drug addled ignorance. But I was younger and sillier and so very, very unhappy. I hated my first degree, I hated where I lived, I hated dropping out of uni, I hated all my relationships, I hated my friends, I hated myself. I finally know I’m in the right place and doing the right thing, plus when I’m unhappy I know it’s because I’m unwell. Or at least I think it is. I don’t know if I’ve made myself this way. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’d just be nice to have a longer picture.
I feel really depressed today. I tortured myself in bed last night. I tried to lie there and take in the thick comfort of the duvet, listening to the fish tank bubble, but I just kept twitching with thoughts. I just don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m so tired I can’t think straight.