I lost it last night and cried and cried into my pillow. I couldn't help it. Today is another day, but so far I just feel sad. My life has been reduced to this: work eight hours at a moderately stressful job, go home, read a book so I don’t have to think about anything else, then try (unsuccessfully) to find food in the house, go out and get fast food, eat, go to sleep. Get up at 7am and start it all over again. Seriously, that’s it. I cannot continue with this for much longer.
Once again, I know it’s me who has to change. Circumstances will come and go, but I’m the only one who can make myself happy. But all those theories (that I’ve always believed in) are a bit harder to put into practice when hard times come knocking at the door.
It’s stupid—I’m feeling sorry for myself when in fact I shouldn’t be thinking about myself at all. It’s time to work on my attitude, I know it. But first, perhaps I’ll hole up in bed and watch movies all weekend and eat myself into oblivion. That’s my coping mechanism of choice.