I'm having one of those days/nights where I'm purposely dragging myself through the mud. Sometimes I treat myself like shit.
I lay around all day, knowing full well that by dusk I'll be kicking myself over the laundry that sat in the family room taunting me because I never threw it in the washer. Or the dinner I refused to feed myself because I decided that chocolate candy and coffee would be my only meal, leaving me shaking by midnight. Or the psychotic conversation I allowed myself to engage in with a certain bat-shit crazy person, basically the same conversation I've engaged in many times, that leaves me feeling like the insecure child that I used to be. Damn those ones that we allow under our skin! Or the celebrity gossip websites I read for hours that cause me to question my faith in humanity. Then there's loved one that I pushed away because I knew he'd make me feel better and feeling better is illegal right now.
It's like, "Leave me alone. How dare you smile or laugh or try to be funny! Can't you see I'm perfecting misery here? Ugh, the nerve!"
If I wanted to have a happy day I would have thrown the laundry in at 10, grabbed a Starbucks at 11, eaten a semi-healthy meal at a reasonable hour, told the bat-shit crazy one to eff off way earlier, shunned Perez Hilton, met up with my loved one much earlier and allowed him to hug me, grabbed a late dinner and blogged about how I overcame my tendency to self-destroy on rainy days.
Can I have a do-over?! Pahhh-leeeasee?
No? Okay. There's always tomorrow kids. Always tomorrow.