Breathe

I’ve just spent half an hour lying on the concrete slab that passes for my patio, taking very deep breaths in and out. If I was inclined to tell the truth on my Facebook status updates, for about the last week it would have said "[Bagelmouse] is severely fucked off". I’ve had the kind of raging melancholy and despair that I haven’t had since New York, the kind that visits uninvited every six months or so and has sometimes led to mistaken prescriptions (‘but doctor, I don’t need the drugs, the nice psychiatrist says this is just how I am‘). So much for SAD; I get my depression over the hottest weekend of the year.

Vast amounts of irritation. Inertia. Shutting down of most brain function. Which turns something like an internet connection dropping out, or a phone not working, from a minor annoyance into a laptop-kicking extravaganza. I should probably not be around people for a few days. Shame I have to go back into work tomorrow then…

Hence the floor-lying. I’d have stayed out there longer, enjoying the blue blue sky and the gentle warmth of the sun, but there’s only so long one person can rest her head on a rock-hard surface. Ow.

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