Why didn’t one of you lot say something? Hmm? Couldn’t one of you, just one, look back and see that last month, around this time, I became as gloomy as the velvet-nosed but not-so-happy Eeyore? And the month before, and the month before that. You see where I’m going with this? I’m shifting the blame onto you, my two readers. It’s your fault that you didn’t pick up a tinge of PMS. God forbid, however, one of you had actually picked it up and told me that. I might’ve bitten your head off. Or, more likely, burst into tears.
Okay, I’m not denying that there is some shit going on my head, completely non-hormone-related stuff that is making me very sad but, mostly, I can push it back down into my murky depths. I know that’s not the healthiest way to deal with such things but it’s the only way I can at the moment. And what’s the point of having murky depths if you can’t push things there?
So here I am, feeling slightly better (slightly being an operative word here) after realising that, perhaps I’m not spiralling into a deep depression from whence I will never come back (drama queen, me?) but am, instead, just going through the motions of being a woman.
It’s been twenty years already. You’d have thought I’d have worked it out by now, wouldn’t you?
22 hours ago