Some days are doomed. Anything and everything that can possibly go wrong, goes wrong. Not because it is actually going wrong, but because you see it as wrong. I know it is warped. But it is true. This is one of those days. I can very conveniently call it PMS, and be done with it. And probably it IS PMS. But why o’ why does it have to be so bad. The itching desire to be nasty to anyone and everyone, that boiling anger for no reason whatsoever, the stubborn body which refuses to co-operate, and the super-lazy me. I hate to be in this condition. No comfort food brings any comfort. No soothing music soothes. No blanket brings much-needed warmth. No sweet words bring that smile.
The more you try to think of something else, the more you are entangled in the dreary zone. Wish there was a way out. Wish I could pop a pill, and all will be well. But I guess there is no way out. This must be endured.