It was touching when a friend reached out yesterday to see if I was okay. She mentioned that she rarely visits my blog, but for some reason she did yesterday. She was worried about me. I have to be honest, I am worried about me too.
This has been a very busy morning, starting at the doctor’s office (where I weighed in 2kg less than two weeks ago), and discussing a number of issues with him. One of the more aggravating issues we discussed was my blood work that I took over the weekend. Everything looks good… I am not diabetic, my cholesterol is fine, yada yada… but the vampires forgot to test my uric acid levels, which was exactly the reason I went to have my blood drawn in the first place. One day later this week I have to go back, for no good reason other than the lab screwed up. I confess I am not too keen to go. It is not because I like the pain caused by gout – trust me, I do not – but because I just don’t care about myself very much right now. I just don’t give a damn.
Yes, I am writing from a place I seldom write from. I do not remember a time in recent memory where I was so down, and I have no recourse. I have nobody to turn to. I just do not think anyone really cares right now. I am hurt down to my soul, and I do not know how to get out of it. None of my usual avenues are currently open to me, so I guess I just have to keep struggling. I hate this… and I hate myself right now.
All of this, despite what I think was a very good demo teach for a company that wants to hire me for contract work. I seem to do well when I am on camera. Off camera? I just want to crawl into a hole. If not a hole, then maybe a booth at a restaurant where I could gorge myself on the foods that I have been denying myself this last year. After all, if nobody else seems to care, why the fuck should I?
Despite this, I am forcing myself to go on. I am making my chicken and salad for lunch and will smoke cigars on the balcony this afternoon. I want to study for an exam, but I do not have it in my soul today. I am broken, and I cannot seem to figure out what glue I need to put myself back together.
Princess Sophie is at her quarterly spa appointment and will come home looking gorgeous and coifed. After I bring her home, I might try to go to the gym. Maybe getting onto a treadmill will help. I cannot imagine it will, but I am going to try. In the meantime I literally feel like Marvin the Paranoid (and inappropriately named) Android from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Don’t talk to me about life. Maybe I can have a competition with the toaster to see which one of us can rust to death faster.
Have a great day folks.
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