I feel a bit like I’ve made myself a hostage to fortune this week. Because of writing about happiness being a choice, and not giving a toss about what other people think of me. But I was right when I said I will always be honest. I have a confession.
I feel rubbish. I have done for nearly two weeks. There’s not obvious reason for it, nothing’s happened, nothing hasn’t happened, I just feel incredibly low. I feel stupid, boring, insignificant and useless. I keep asking myself what am I doing with my life? And the answer really is nothing. I’m doing nothing. Twatty blogging and that’s pretty much it. I’m making no contribution to anything. I’m not working, I’m not studying, I’m not volunteering. I’m just sitting at home. Doing nothing. And all around me, people seem to be achieving so much more, being so much more talented, intelligent, and interesting.
I’m not fishing for compliments. I don’t want people to swoop in and lovebomb me. Because even if you did, I wouldn’t believe you. It’s not to do with anyone else. It’s just me. I feel rubbish. Writing’s not going well, blogging’s rubbish, and I don’t have much else going for me. I know this is temporary. I’ve felt like this before, and it will pass. But right now, I feel rubbish. And that’s all there is to say.