Clinomania

I've been in bed all day not feeling like facing the outside world. which admittedly looked rather dashing through my half drawn curtains...But ahhhhh, the effort in going out there. In looking acceptable. in putting one exhausted foot in front of the other. In worrying that it won't be cold enough to keep my hat on, for I haven't bothered to wash my hair. But now, it's grown dusky.
And I, have grown tetchy. As always occurs. I never learn from these episodes of cabin fever.
But I am about to embark on a journey,...
A mission. Of great psychological importance.
I need chocolate. Or I may have a breakdown.
Thusly I must away...

The air is fresh, could be described as pleasant even if it weren't for all this awkward repressed sadness. Tesco is too bright by comparison to the night I walk in from. The scientific term for how I feel is "icky" . There are however many other strange people here on a Friday night...umm, Thank goodness?...
I feel ashamed with my unhealthy intended purchases as I look up to see a tall handsome man, who looks like he's just spent the last few hours doing something unbelievably athletic and wholesome.
He smiles at me, but here I am - imagining it to be the same smile he would give to an elderly person, or perhaps a poor little limp puppy.
I see all these sad faces. And wonder what all this is for.
I pass people on their way home, laden with heavy bags. Misery written upon their tired faces.
There must be another way. A way off the grid set out for us.
I feel this intense need to do something important - to make some kind of dent.
I get home. I swiftly eat through half a tub of Ben & Jerry's, and wish I had bought something more lasting.
I could have left the house today, I could have seen things, gone places...
Not let these four walls draw in upon me with their melancholy and accusation.
But for this tiredness that still creeps all over my skin.
I do not forgive myself the cold that pricks the back of my throat with every swallow,
"Compassion" I promised I would have compassion for myself.
But I have forgotten it already?
Tomorrow will be different.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow...
I'll forgive myself for all my weak humanity then.