5th March – Sunday
Don’t know what to write. Nothing really happened last week.
It’s raining like crazy outside. Lightening just started flashing. Might be a storm starting. No thunder. Storms used to make me excited. I’d feel them in my head before they started. Like the molecules in my forehead were dancing, like my skin was a bit tight. I’d forgotten that. Now I’m waiting for the thunder or it won’t be a proper storm. Wonder when I stopped being excited. Can’t remember anything. Seriously. Seven days’ worth of stuff and I’m struggling to remember what. Like there’s a black hole where my past should be.
Went out Saturday night. Got drunk. Didn’t cost much, got included in a few rounds. Not much happened on Sunday. Took the dog out. Rained then too.
Work in the week obviously. Had a meeting in Basingstoke on Wednesday. Stuck in traffic for two hours on the way back. At least I didn’t have to go back to the office though. Horrible atmosphere there. Everyone’s worried about their jobs now new management is in in. Asking everyone questions. Haven’t had my interview yet. Trying not to think about it. We’re all under target, not just me.
Hate getting up for work.
Feel like I’m so trapped. My own stupid fault. Shouldn’t be so soft. Why am I so scared of conflict? I should just tell James how he makes me feel. Every time the phone goes and it’s him I feel anxious. What is he going to complain about now? What needs doing urgently. Everything’s always urgent. And he always takes the credit for it. And tells me he’s doing all he can to protect my job, looking out for me. LIES! He’s looking out for his own job.
But I just pretend everything’s alright and take the shit and do the job and pretend it’s okay and really, really hate myself. When did I get so weak? I don’t even know myself anymore.
Went for dinner at Karl and Chris’s on Friday.
See them at least once a week now I’m on my own. Food was good. Wine was good. Ended up in tears again though. Good job gay men like a drama. I’m a bloody walking soap opera. Started talking about my job, again. My bastard boss. Again. It’s all I can think about. That and money. Told them the latest boring rubbish. Don’t know why I cry. Karl’s convinced I’m depressed. He’s been on pills for years. Mood stabilisers. They made me do a test online to check. According to Karl, the NHS website and seemypersonality.com I’m depressed. I promised to make an appointment with the doctor. Might do it Monday.
Stayed in this weekend. Being depressed is depressing. Bottle of wine last night. Fell asleep on the sofa. It’s better than being awake and thinking. Brain just never stops. Thank God for alcohol.
Can’t think of anything else to write. What a boring life.
Stopped raining now. Even that makes me want to cry. Can’t even get a proper storm. Fuck it.