Another Day

悲惨な一日
I SLEPT for hours and hours and hours yesterday. One thing 300mg quetiapine has done is let me catch up on lost sleep. Every time I woke up, the bleakness of the day forced me back under the covers. I only got up after 3:30pm. And even then it took me an hour anda half to put on jeans and shoes and get out the door.

There was a knock knock knocking I couldn't ignore. The landlord's henchman was there asking questions. I tried not to look like I was in the mood I was in. All around me people say useless things. I am so glad I live on my own. Which should mean at least that when I'm home I have nobody to answer to. Nobody for whose benefit I have to twist my face into grotesque shapes in the name of social acceptability. (I call it false smiles and fakery.) And I shouldn't have to do it at home. Except when the landlord comes round uninvited. Once he had gone and the forced cheer of my farewell was fading from my ears I just wanted to scream and bang my head on the wall. Why does he have to turn up when I feel that bad?

Well I have nothing else to say and I'm not reading through this crap again much less editing it. Every time I post these days I walk away with various dumb-arse comments or phrases running and re-running through my head; thinking WHAT did I say that for??!?

This is just a diary, that's all. It never has been the type of blog that's out there to show how cool or clever or fascinating I am. If it was, trust me, it would be nothing like this.

Maybe in years time I will read this over and wonder how I felt. Well I just feel sick and weak and feeble and not up for anything and my mood is sulky. Except I doubt I will ever want to know.