I'm in a foul mood again. I suppose you're not surprised, at this point.
I should be in a good mood, really. I now have a grand total of two friends in Switzerland. One at work and one who is as lost in this place as I am. I went to the gym today, and followed my 7km speed training with half an hour in the jacuzzi. I have plans for every night of next week. My new hire hasn't run away screaming, yet. I've finally booked myself on a holiday to Brazil with HH at the end of March.
All good things.
Roomie is back with his ex. They're here now, hidden away and lovied up. I hate them. My ex still thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread that he doesn't want a relationship with. And he spent the night one room away, in my apartment, two days ago. I hate him. My boss thinks I have superhuman powers and can somehow transform decades of illegal practices into kitten-cuddling utopia between now and springtime. Though who knows when spring will actually ever come. I hate my job, and the lack of springtime. My body is always hungry and constantly gaining weight. Yup, hate the old body as well.
You know what? I don't want to list 5 things I'm grateful for. I don't want to lift my chin up (although I suppose it might hide the doubles). I don't want to put a brave face on or find some blasted silver lining. I'm not interested in either buckling up or chilling out.
I am angry and frustrated and I want to punch somebody. But because my mama raised me better than that, all I'm left with is telling you how much I want to punch somebody. And it doesn't help.
What would help is somebody loving me back. An agent thinking my book isn't shit. My body deciding food is not a good substitute. People choosing to walk the straight and narrow. Switzerland becoming home.
For Pete's sake, I don't even have any Nutella in the flat. How could you possibly expect me to cope?