My life is so dull that nothing ever happens, yet this leaves me all turned about: rarely do truly bad things happen, but equally neither does anything genuinely good (everything, it seems, has complications).
I want to run and correct my mistakes, yet also to cringe and hide from them until they are finally forgotten. I want to be elsewhere and yet never go there again. I want to pack up and move on but want, too, to cling on to the last vestiges of memory.
I hate my weekends yet want them to last forever. I lack for things to do but need the dead time to recover. Most of all, I want to be able to sleep - on the basis that if I were more rested then things would look brighter. Two incredibly disturbed nights sleep on and I'm a wreck - angry, sad, tearful, apathetic and hopeless.
I'm back in the rut, and sinking into the soft mud of the tread so any view over the side is fading fast.
And a shitty election result doesn't help.