I hate the times when I look around at everything and go… everything- you are a pile of shit.
When dinner looks up at me from a big beautiful white plate and goes- I am foul organic matter that you are going to stuff into your mouth and chew.
When getting home after a long day at work means doing more work without being paid, for someone who doesn’t even notice, then I set about being a disgusting slob with a big belly full of food.
When I look at a bunch of scarves spewing out of my chest of draws and am offended by the sight of such untidiness but completely unmotivated to put them away.
When I realise I didn’t say I love you to anyone. Not in weeks. Not in months.
When I look at my alarm clock with utter hatred because it signifies the start of another day of pretending.
When I listen to the radio and hate everything I hear.
When I write 3 emails and get none back.
When I read up on some public figure that I respect and find out they are shit.
I hate the times when there is nothing in my life I would change yet quite inexplicably: I feel like shit.
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