I was low before I even heard that there is to be a snap election in June, one which looks likely to bury the Labour Party forever and with it any hopes whatsoever of British government post Brexit being interested in the welfare of ordinary people . This was just the turd icing on an already shitty state of mind.
I’m having a flare-up with my respiratory stuff. For a week or so it’s been uncertain if it’s a genuine flare-up or just a nasty cough (there’s been one doing the rounds); now there is certainty. Shitty, respiratory flare-up confirmation certainty. I hurt, my sleep is all over the fucking place, I can’t move about without needing to stop frequently and thinly catch my breath and I’m having to fight to get food inside me as my appetite has typically deserted me just when I need it the most.
It’s how it is. Been here before. One day it will kill me off but hopefully not this time around. I still have hopes and dreams to aim myself at. I still aspire to experiencing more and travelling a little more too. Of course I’m well aware that just because I want to carry on living there is no guarantee I will. I don’t run the universe. When the world is done with me then it’s done with me, not much I can do about that beyond cowering behind my medicines and proclaiming how unfair it seems.
Which sounds resigned and depressive, eh? Duh! I am depressed. So would you be. Maybe you wouldn’t be resigned. Then again, after fighting this fucking shit half your life, maybe you would be.