Actually...
Actually it's me, who's not allright. I woke up at nine, but stared at the celing for three fucking hours and 35 minutes before I got on my feet. I went to the loo and returned straight to bed. After a while I made myself get up again and make the "morning" coffee and put some music on. I'm still naked, although it's freezing cold in here. Ok, now I have my coffee... Hope it helps with the hunger, because I don't think I have the strength to make myself a meal. Why the hell is writing almost always easy and living a normal life so impossible? Weak moron, no good shadow of a man. In the old days no-one would have put up with this kind of behaviour for a second. I should just force myself to get better and stop this ridiculous whining. I haven't even seen war or anything really traumatizing, and I should be able to handle my tiny disappointments.
And I should be able to return to that teaching and stuff next year. Gods have mercy...
And I should be able to return to that teaching and stuff next year. Gods have mercy...