It's all fun and games until it sucks

Some days just seem to be horrible. Those days where you just have this pit in your stomach that doesn’t seem to go away. It’s not until you have a conversation or text message from someone and everything just comes rushing out; nothing can be held back and the waterworks just turn on.
I’m having one of those days. It’s all just falling to pieces bit by bit. It probably doesn’t help having a mum who continuously reiterates the worst situation possible and tells you over and over what might happen, worst case scenario every time.

I hate these kinds of days. They don’t happen very often to me but when they do, everything just seems like shit. I’ve never been a person to comfort eat but I envy people who are. I wish I was able to pick up a giant tub of ice cream and scoff it down while watching beautiful women on the telly, wishing I was skinnier and slowly start to feel better. But I’m not. I’m one of those people who curl into a little ball of self-pity and don’t come out until all the darkness is gone. That’s mainly because I will keep self-loathing until I feel normal again and all my tears have been shed. I have tried before to force myself to come out before I was ready and all that happened was I started crying again. It’s funny how fragile people become when they’re sad. A pitying look or slight touch on the shoulder can send them into a whimpering mess. Mine are usually triggered by something. Today is as well but it’s a long story and I don’t have the energy to write it down. Another day, I promise.

I just want to write about my sadness to further stroke my inner selfishness and then feel bad about feeling sorry for myself. It’s all a dark circle of misery once I truly get started. I know everything will work out. I know I need to take it one step at a time. I know I should just pull myself together. But sometimes it’s just as nice to let everything go and feel fucking sorry for yourself, in your home, under the covers, with no one around to pat your head and make soothing noises. It really does feel good.

Of course I know there are people who love me; my boyfriend, my parents, my friends. I have a very big group of people who truly love me, and it all just seems to make it worse sometimes. My mind likes to remind me just how lucky I am to be blessed with so many loving friends and family. I’m pretty sure it only does it to piss me off further. Why can’t I just have a little time for complete and utter self-pity without my mind ruining it all? I guess that’s just how I’m engineered. Well, fuck you DNA! I want to feel sorry for myself. I want to cry and scream and then fall into a misery-induced coma and sleep until everything is better. But I know I’m just going to wake up and nothing will be solved and I have to face the day “head on” and get on with it. But for now, I just want a little while longer to not be the happy one.