Sometimes we are
Bah. What the ...
Sometimes I am scared. Of being happy. I have this feeling. That it is too good for me. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. But that's not the point.
What all this pushing and pulling ends up in is a huge huge wave that sweeps away whatever happiness there is. Even the tad bits which my super ultra pessimistic self would allow me. I keep throwing myself into an abyss. Till I realise that I have fallen way more than I have to. Till I have no way of crawling back up. I am tired. Of trying. Because I know no matter how much I try. In the end I will end up throwing myself back into misery. And believe me, it's not the life goes in cycles of happiness and sadness thing. I force sadness upon myself. It's like I am designed for it. Automated to seek out the smallest teeniest tiniest morsels of joy and to shred them. Stamp on them. Till blue mud oozes through them.
I don't wallow in the mud though. I don't. The only thing I do is to pick up a book or Jenny or whatever and be aware that there is a slight discomfort. But I never wallow. At times, I have tried the wallowing bit too. It sucks. It's like you are scratching a bad itch till you bleed. So you just go on with your day. Let the itch itch. No matter what happens. Don't scratch. Or you will end up writing blog entries at 0100.
Whatever. Yea. So I have borrowed a pair of slippers from this guy. I will buy my own. Someday eh. Nah. This weekend.
I miss plum cakes. Tiny overpriced plum cakes. I miss them at precisely 2300 every night. I also hate having coffee alone. Darn exams.
Wait. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Hm. Does a strong urge to eat mint chocolate chip icecream count as a happy thought? Can an urge even qualify as a thought? Whatever. That's the closest I can get to a happy thought right now. No. Wait.
Naah. That's about it.

PS: Blue mud. Adrian Mitchell, 'Leaflets'.

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