Well, so far this week is off to a great start. Sunday afternoon I had sex with one of my boyfriend's best friends… again. (Goddamnit! Why do I keep doing that?!) Then Sunday night I got drunk by myself and woke up at three in the morning soaked in my own urine. (Awesome.)
I went to work Monday morning with the world's worst hangover, feeling shitty and achy and exhausted all day and basically just wanting to curl up into a little ball and hide. Then I binged like crazy, effectively ruining all the progress I made over the weekend and confirming that which I already suspected - that I’m a big fat fucking failure. To top it all off, I ended the day by having to tramp back and forth from the laundry room till well past midnight, so I could wash my sheets and pillows and blankets and clothes and mattress.
It’s only Tuesday and I already can’t wait for the weekend. Except for the fact that, in order to get to the weekend and enjoy it, I have to accomplish everything I need to at work, get all my appointments out of the way, and hopefully stick to my diet so I can be on my way to being nice and thin when the sun comes out and it's time to relax.
I swear, sometimes life feels so unbearably overwhelming, I start to think I won't be able to handle it. I just want to go to sleep and wake up a few years from now. And by then, maybe my life will be different. Maybe my job will be different. Maybe my body will be different. Maybe I will be different.
And when I say different, I really mean better.