The 12th of April.
The worst thing about being on HRT is that every three months I am forced to have a period and be reminded that I will never have a child, my body is falling to bits, I have a migraine, my death is imminent, and Britain’s Got Talent is on which just reminds me of Richard.
So I haven’t had the greatest of days. I have read the paper and watched a lot of tv. No exercising because I’ve done something dodgy to my back.
Oh God my head is throbbing I’m going to bed.
The 13th of April.
Today has been better, although I had another crappy night – I didn’t fall asleep until about half past three. I thought about getting a Zopiclone but I wasn’t sure it was necessary and I didn’t want to do it twice in one week if I don’t have to. Tonight I’ll take one upstairs so if I do need it, it’s there.
This morning I watched Sunday Brunch, and this afternoon I exercised while watching Hostages to try and stave off tiredness. I also was giving Oscar a good brush, when he suddenly decided he didn’t like it anymore so he stuck his claw into my middle finger on my left hand and bit my right hand and made me bleed. I have not been his friend for the rest of the day.
I feel like everything I write at the moment is really unfinished. I just seem incapable of completing pieces right now and I don’t know what I’m doing.