I’m coughing, sniffing, wiping snow out of my freezing face as I watch Forest score the deciding penalty as the Cobblers lose 2-1. What was I thinking? "Life’s shit, really, isn’t it.".
For those who know me, they know I’m generally not a depressed person. I put on a happy face regardless, which usually works when getting through some rather awful rubbish. It helps others through hard times, too, when I joke about things which would otherwise bring down friends. But who does that when I need it? Usually myself, but it’s hard at the moment.
I rarely get sick (Depression is really linked to sickness, isn’t it…) but when I do, it usually cripples me greatly. I can smile through a cold, but when you just become generally ill, it’s hard then. When I can’t breathe, I become agitated. I moan at people. I moaned at Simon yesterday, now I get the impression he hates me. Great.
This week’s been just one of those weeks – the ones where you’re glad to just get them over with and start afresh come Monday. I really didn’t fancy going to work today, but I had to. It was rather cold, but I braved it. I had to. I went out and supported the Cobblers, too, because I had to. I don’t give up easily. But this week I’ve just been "Oh whatever. Do what you like." because of this illness.
A rather crucial £30 didn’t make its way into my bank account on Thursday, which pretty much hinged what I did today. No money meant no bowling and Pizza Hut, which meant no Reece Day altogether. So after I argued with Simon about something silly, I ended up not going at all and planning to go play a free game of football with Ben, Tranquin and the rest of them. That got cancelled at the last minute and, again due to this illness, I didn’t fancy playing badminton.
So I sat – at home – doing virtually cock all. Everyone’s out having a good time, while I’m stuck here trying to get my new blog working somewhat well. I was talking to Eric at the time (Who, due to the way things go with people who leave, I rarely talk to) and couldn’t really get a conversation going, because I was busy and because I couldn’t be bothered. How rubbish is that?
It looked like my mates had a good time running Reece Day without me (and, supposedly, without Reece) and I’m glad they did. Why do I always miss out on the good things?
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