Hi all! Happy Monday!
Since my breakup I’ve been having a little bit of difficulty letting go, so instead I’ve really let myself go. I’ve gained a good forty pounds from moping around the house. I’ve simply stopped caring about the basic necessities of personal hygiene. But then again why does it matter? I’m not leaving the house to see anyone. And certainly no one’s coming to see me, so why does it matter? It doesn’t. I barely leave my room. I’m stuck mostly to the bed sleeping, drifting in and out of reality. The dreams are my reality now. I’ve got all these appointments lined up and I don’t want to go to a single one of them. They’re supposed to be “good for me”. It’ll help me reacquaint myself with reality and society. I just find them a horrible waste of time. Time that could be spent sleeping and dreaming about the good times and the fun times and getting stuck in a moebius loop of hotel floors gasping for air as I’m running for my life.
My occupational therapist keeps suggesting to me to do volunteer work, as does my best friend but all it feels like is someone’s dragging me through dirt and mud. Honestly, I think it would be good. Really I do. But I can’t bring myself to commit to anything. What’s the point in committing if it’s just going to fall apart. And it will fall apart. I’m going to turtle myself in my room and become a recluse. I’m going to refuse company and hiss and growl at any mention of social gathering. What a life it’ll be!
As always your thoughts and comments are welcomed below. I look forward to hissing at them. Hissssss.
remixboy 