I am quite stressed. There is no reason for this, it is just the existential thrumb of being, coupled with too much time to pay attention.
I am trying to switch it off. It is not working. I am a self-obsessed fool.
I need less time. More relaxation. I don’t know. I am still having imaginary conversations. I thought I was thinking about things so much, so I sent some emails without thinking about them, and now – now I can do nothing about them! – I am thinking about them. Over and over.
It’s very dull.
Today: the bubble bar that smell’s of juniper. Gin and Tonic. Sparkling Pumpkin. Something like that. It’s becoming a comfort blanket. An orange, sparkling comfort blanket. I still have a stash, from Christmas, but it’s dwindling.
I am worried about tomorrow. I am not going back to work, I have some time off, that’s lovely. People will reply to those emails, I might have to do things. I am worried about that. People might not reply, and I am worried about that too. I could just turn my phone off. Such a simple solution.
I have fallen down another 90s Spotify rabbit hole. It’s become Bluetones Bad. I kind of want a pizza. Thin crust. Cheese. Tomato.
I am thinking in food. I am tired. I am cross. I am trying to explain things to people who can’t hear me. I have overdosed on salt and vinegar hula hoops.