I wonder if I'm coming down with flu, I have that run down feeling today. Perhaps I'm just coming down with the decaying after effects of boredom. I am terribly bored despite writing my newest book. Oh you know, it's that time of year.
It's the 1st of December tomorrow, I always feel oddly depressed at Christmas, I think that's why I make such a fuss of seeming bright and festive because I don't want the outside world to know I feel rather like one of those dwellers who lingers near the suicide list, it's always more popular this time of year...no of course I don't mean I'm suicidal, not at all, but that depression category I most definitely lean towards. Winter makes me think of all the awfulness of these four walls, it brings out the worst. I remember the Christmases' gone by and even the good memories are tainted a thick gooey black by the bad. Christmas isn't what Christmas should be in these four walls and hasn't been for a very long time.
The cold doesn't help either, my arthritis starts creaking worse than at any other time, the added stress of needing warm dinners and gift giving its all just too much. It is when there are other pressing matters at hand.
I told myself I would give it until Christmas didn't I? I said I wouldn't let myself worry until Christmas. Well I have worried, I've lost sleep, I've felt sick and finally I'm just a few weeks until that deadline and I am feeling pretty damn desperate.