Days like these, I just want to curl up and die. These bouts of curling up and dying are usually preceded by long inspections of blogs and writing which goes on with much gusto. It’s when I begin reading mine that I want to fling myself off the window.
Nothing happened, no one said anything. I just want to hide from my memories. From things I have said so far, from embarrassments, from my judgments of people, from the me from 7 years before and also the me from yesterday. And to pick a Sunday to do all of this is such a shame!
When I turn to writing to get rid of this slimy feeling, I end up reading my old posts and want to throw up all over myself.
It’s sad on so many different levels. Just when I’m about to recover from this depressing blahness, I begin to review my behavior, online and otherwise throughout the week and it kills me to not have found a place already where I can pelt my head.
This is a rant. Now I don’t know what to say so I’m Just going to sleep.
Pah. This sucks.
Why can’t I write?