It’s been a depressing sort of week. 4 days of being sick and 3 days of dragging my rebelling brain and body to work and today, a day of working from home. And diarrhoea. Again. Not to mention a host of real and imagined aches and pains.
It’s back, you know. My faithful yearly spell of looking back and looking down and failing to look ahead. I’m beginning to suspect, though, that once a year is way too less. I’m losing it, Zonk. I’m losing the urgency and the Great Discontent. And every way I look at it, I have only myself to blame.
I have of course, made plans. To drag myself out of this bleak mess and make something out of it all. To make anything at all. But then again, as I’ve proved to both myself and you: Planning is easy. Doing is not. And I have a flair for failing at that.
I will be dead someday, Zonk. And you will remember me as The Girl Who Planned To Try.