I’ve bought my £1 stale sandwich from the sale section at the convenience store and some Angel Slices. I’ve been saving my money this week for an end of week binge on chocolate and Coca Cola. It’s almost over and the cloud is lifting, but for only one day and then it’ll be Monday again, and the cycle of misery will begin again.
I’m looking forward to a hen party this evening, for something to do, a quiet little get together requiring no extra effort/make-up to attend. The kind of parties I like. It’s easy to forget my mental issues when somebody needs you to be happy for them on their occasion, it’s also a pleasant distraction. I could do with more of them, I may pass for human if I had more people to need me to be happy. I’d do it for them but not for myself.
I need a funnel for my third cup of tea of the day. Can depression make you thirsty? I’m not sure but I’ve been drowning myself in fluids for days now as if I’m cleansing my sadness from my body. It won’t do any good, the darkness follows me and I’m sure people are starting to see it.
I like weddings but I hate the disheartening search for wedding guest outfits that highlight your imperfections. Arms, legs, skin, improportionate physique etc. No dresses can sensibly cover you from head to foot without showing any of your lumps and bumps. It’s alright for the bride, she’d look gorgeous in a white trash bag, she’s young and beautiful but all I can think of is becoming a higher level of preened to meet the imaginary standard of the guest list. I feel that because she’s young and has booked her perfect venue and has bought all of her perfect flowers that if my hair were not pristine, my shoe were slightly scuffed, that I would feel out of place and inadequate all day. The guest reject that they choose to seat at the back of the room beneath the broken wall light with the family members nobody can get along with. I just wouldn’t enjoy myself if I knew I hadn’t given it my all to be as photogenic as possible for the famous group shot she’ll be scanning for the next ten years to remember her big day.
It’s a responsibility for myself as a guest to look respectable for another person, but it’s hard to shop for clothes when you feel as blue as me… maybe she can borrow me!