Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Some days are just the worst.




The day started fairly positive, I mean I woke up late but whatever. I got off to a good start, sticking to my daily workout followed by breakfast.

A quick bus trip to school and i'll be golden. That's what I thought. 

I had been on the bus no more than 2 minutes when the fear hit me. A delightful patron, barges through the isle and hollers to those on the back seat to ' Move the fuck over'. Uhoh. This is going to end well. After finding a seat, said passenger jumps up and slams the roof vent open with an aggression to be desired. It's fine, honestly it's fine, but the fear doesn't listen. My palms start omitting a cold sweat, my heart rate falls over itself. Oh and there it is, there come the shakes. Is that vomit I taste? Fuck. All the while I'm staring dead out the window, hoping my headphones silently deter any interaction. Nope, not this time. ' Nice hat', takes headphone out of one ear and sheepishly says thank you. More loud chatter, more curse words. Finally he tells me i'm sad for wearing headphones and missing out on conversation. That is, until someone nudges him, a reminder that he pushed the button to signal his stop. Off he goes, shouting and swearing into the day. Now where was the need for all of that? The belligerent behaviour is one thing, but to have a panic attack in reaction is something else entirely.

The day picks up, i'm off to meet my tutor. What else can go wrong? Well I guess I'll have a peek online and see if my exam results are posted. Yupp, there they are. A big fat fucking D. May as well have slept through the fucking exam. Chokes the vomit back, again.

Yoga relaxes me a bit, and I make it through my Psychology lecture without bursting into tears. Bursting being the optimum word, tears there were.

I bus downtown, but the memory of my last trip breaks me into panic once again. I plug in my headphones and stare at the ground, hoping to bypass any vomit that may be awaiting my demise. Given the day I had, I thought a nice cold cider was in order. I have 9 spare minutes to book it to the liquor store before my next bus. On route I pass some panhandlers. Again, headphones in. Again, that deters absolutely no one. When I fail to respond to his aggressive shouts, he follows up with ' Go fucking die '.

So here I am, walking down the street wondering if I should in fact take his advice and go die. Or I could go home, cook a steak and drink a cider. Yupp, right on cue. Vomit. Luckily there's a trash can in sight, because regretfully, this time I can't choke it back.

So that was today; 3 vomits, 1 panic attack, a failing grade and a request to kill myself.

Happy Fucking Days!

Love xo

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