Sometimes I really wish I could go to sleep for a thousand years. Then maybe I could wake up and start again. Shed this life for a new one. It's days like these that make me yearn for a sleep like that. Days which are repeating themselves all too frequently lately.
Today has been one of those days and it's been a rubbish one. One which I was all too ready to hide under the sheets, leave the TV on with either Dr Who or football and let things unfold in front of me. Even when I did attempt to try and do something productive like make a meal, that threatened to go badly. The simple act of buttering some bread had me almost explode in rage/burst into tears. Watching it fold up and crumble in my hand still makes me rage when I think about it now. Daft eh? but there you go. That's me at the moment.
The feeling inside is one of cold hollowness.
What on earth am I going to do?
When I try and think of a future it doesn't look good at all. All I can see it me with 'this'. Everything I ever hoped for or wished for is turning into nothing, just a load of high hoping dreams. A life of this is hard to comprehend, no matter how many times I write about it, think about it or live through it.
Writing these words makes me angry and I don't know why.
My inner rage is giving me a headache.