I’ve been feeling a bit rubbish today. Not ill, or anything – just not myself. “In a mood,” you might say, though the reason for my general grumbling is hard to pinpoint. Certainly work wasn’t great, and there were a couple of rather annoying situations that came up today, but nothing that particularly screamed “BE DEPRESSED!”, nothing out of the ordinary.
But I’m feeling tired and fed up. And what made me feel worse was reading this superbly written piece about Roger Ebert, probably the world’s most famous and well-respected film critic. Learning about how this man was left unable to speak, eat or drink after being ravaged by cancer, and how he’s so optimistic and continues to write relentlessly despite his condition, certainly put my problems into perspective, and made me angry at myself for feeling the way I do today.
Unfortunately, I just can’t help it. I have the occasional day when I’m not exactly brilliant to be around, and this is one of them. My head isn’t exactly hurting, but it’s as if gravity is ten times Earth-normal, trying to push it towards the ground. And despite having had a good night’s sleep last night, I’m shattered. I should be spending tonight doing a bit of writing, but I’m just not in the mood. Instead I’m going to catch up on some telly, feel sorry for myself, and then go to bed, hoping for better things tomorrow.
I hate it when I’m like this, but at least it’s given me the first (and hopefully, though probably not, the last) opportunity to write an emo-tastic post on here. That’s something, I suppose!
Yours, wallowing in unearned self-pity,