I have the biggest black cloud hanging over me right now. I don't know what's up, I really don't. I don't know whether it's a physical (coming to terms with the fact that OH, ALRIGHT I may be a touch alco-dependent, as my shrink likes to think. But honestly, just a touch- I'm not quite the raving alcoholic that I like to think of myself as, when I'm feeling ESPECIALLY dramatic) or whether it's mental- just me being an angsty fuck, even more of an angsty fuck than usual; I'm awful at working out my feelings. I'm... I'm not exactly depressed, but I'm incredibly anxious and that's keeping me bitchy and snappy and pretty much always close to tears.
I don't know, it might just be the empty days I need to fill here in Scunthorpe, before I go back to Essex in a few weeks.
Gawwwwwd. I need to relax and I'm failing miserably at it. I make out that I'm dead lazy, but I'm such a faffer that I'm constantly on the go or have a project or SOMETHING. Relaxing makes me nervous. But my body is so tired. The results of my blood tests from last week came back with a bit of a warning- not as perfect as they usually are. Not by a stretch. No matter how ill I got, whatever I did to it, my body bounced back. But right now it's tired and doesn't reeeeeeally want to humour my disorder. Body versus disease, dear me.