In six minutes time, it will be nine o'clock, and I will officially have been awake for 12 hours. And what have I achieved in these 12 hours? Nothing. I have achieved nothing. I've wasted about three hours crying my eyes out because I'm stressed, but have done little else.
Why is it that nothing in the world seems to retain its light when you've hit rock bottom? Little things that you normally wouldn't give a shit about just seem to weigh down on you like a titan. Something as trivial as the line at Sainsbury's being a little longer than it usually is at four in the afternoon just sets your mind a-spin. The fact that people are coming over to view your flat seems to signify the impending apocalypse. And even though you know the world is not really going to end if someone's in a no-signal zone, it's just so hard to see past that.
So how do we get through it? Do we tell ourselves repeatedly "this too shall pass?" Or do we go cry in a corner wishing that life were easier? Well, both, I guess. I mean, in the end, you've really just got to do whatever will get you through the day, be it TapZoo or Facebook.
Besides, there's always the fact that no matter how bad of a week you think you're having, someone not-so-far away is having a worse one, and at the end of the day, you realise that things do get better. They always do, with a little time, and a little help from your friends.
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