Well that was weird

Thanks to everyone for reading my mope-fest of a last post. Extra thanks to everybody who sent their kind words and who gave me feedback on  my writing.

It turns out y’all don’t really like it when I write about news and world events. So I’m going to experiment with writing more personal stuff.

Kind of my nightmare. But it seems to be what people actually read. Weirdos.

With that disclaimer over, let’s talk about my feelings an’ shit.

As you may have gleaned from my last post, I’ve been a bit of a bummer lately. And no one has suffered my wrath more than my man, my fiancee, my live-in favourite human, Mark.

Eating and sleeping haven’t been high on my priority list this past week. My depression and anxiety have been battling it out in my brain and my body is showing the bruises.

Literally. My eyes look like I’ve had my nose broken the circles are so ugly and dark.

Mark deduced something was more wrong than one of my usual cycles when I woke him up the other morning by sleep-screaming “I AM CALLING THE POLICE!”

I had been dreaming that a clown was outside our apartment door and I was struggling to keep the lock in place. Sleep talking isn’t new for me, but it’s usually at a lower decibel. And he’s lucky the clown was outside the apartment because I am also a sleep-puncher.

Anyway, after a morning of being grumpy, tired, forgetful and just a walking storm-cloud I went to work and continued along that same vein.

Which is a pretty shitty and selfish way to be in an office of people probably more upset than you. But I didn’t care. And I continued not caring until I realized my morning grogginess was not done with me. I realized I’d forgotten my apartment keys.

HOW. DOES. ONE. FORGET. THEIR GODDAMN KEYS?!?

Mark, does not have a phone.

I finish work at 12:30am.

I had to buzz the landlords who were very much asleep to let me into the building where I could then knock on my own door and pray that my luck couldn’t possibly be bad enough for Mark to be asleep or worse, playing xbox with his headphones on.

Turns out, I didn’t need luck. Because I picked a solid dude.

Not only did he answer the door for his red-eyed, ghost-faced, sullen girlfriend, he’d cooked my favourite dinner (Black Bean Chicken with red and green peppers, y’all!), purchase me two bottles of my favourite wine, and queued up a youtube playlist of one of The Graham Norton Show.

The hangover this morning from drinking both bottles almost entirely by myself was so worth it. I had the best sleep. I had a night of laughing at Chris O’Dowd accidentally swallowing a fly on television. And I have the best friend anyone could ever ask for.

No matter what life throws at us, there’s nothing that a cheap bottle of red and a night of laughter can’t fix.

Thank you Mark.

 

PS. You said you wanted me to write more about myself. Well. Choke on that sappy-ass shit and let me know if you want more or if I should go back to the shadows and try to get back to the news. Seriously. I need feedback because I don’t know what you people want from me.

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