[mild trigger warning towards end]
I had the most glorious weekend. We went to Stratford-upon-Avon and saw a bunch of the Shakespeare related places and had some delicious food – and even more delicious tea. So we bought a little package of tea. And then despite my best efforts of late to be EXTREMELY CAREFUL in keeping everything with me and safe, I lost the bag with the tea. And some other things.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??
I am in the midst of emotional upheaval over this stupid bag of tea (although in my defense, it was a wonderful weekend and the tea was my chief memento and it was really good tea).
Why did I do that? Over and over I whispered, what did I do? Why did I forget? Where did it go?
Now I am rolling around in explosive self destruction like a dog with an itch. Waste of money. Idiot. God is punishing you for being greedy. You already had some postcards, why did you need tea? Your own fault for leaving it there. Should’ve put it in my backpack. Should’ve kept it in my lap. How did I miss it when I looked behind me? I’m an idiot. I’m always doing this. It’s ruined everything.
I hate myself. I’m never eating again. I’m being punished for taking a holiday. Clearly I didn’t work hard enough for this weekend. I have to work harder. I’m never allowing myself to play another video game. No more procrastination. It’s all because I don’t work hard enough. Because I’m a loser. Because I don’t deserve this.
I could have prevented this. I could have fixed it. Now all I’ve done is been greedy, wasted way too much money, fucked myself over, fucked Patrick over because he’s upset that I’m upset which makes me even more upset, and ruined everything. I’ve ruined his memories and mine. All because I was greedy. All because I don’t deserve this. All because I have to work so much harder to even begin to deserve anything like this. Selfish, idiotic, covetous little bitch that you are.
I shouldn’t even be this upset. I should be grateful I even got to go this weekend, that it was so great before now. I should be grateful I even got to have tea. But no, I’m just whining, moaning, putrefying my brain in disgusting self-pity and well-deserved self-loathing. Pouting. Buck up you fuck face. Get back to work. You don’t deserve to feel sad. Some people never have tea. Some people never have the luxury of having a mental breakdown. Some people never have the luxury of coming off of meds. Of going to Stratford. Of even having the challenges you face. You should be grateful. Your nauseating little fit is a gnat on the arm of Suffering. Be flicked away into your unimportance you fucker.
Oh Heyyyyy! You’re already being a self-serving little bitch whining at people you imagine are there. Oh? Are you having fantasies about harming yourself? About cutting the throat of the cattle the train is passing? Guess what? You can’t actuate them, mofo! That would be bad. And you’re not bad, are you? You don’t want to disappoint Patrick, do you? You’re trying to get better. Awwww. How cute.
You aren’t sick anyway. You don’t know what real pain is. You’re just weak. This is just you. Insubstantial, impuissant, feckless little you.
Now I’m here at home, waiting for someone to pick up the line at the Lost and Found, and crawling into bed to let my brain dish out more venomous acupuncture.