Writing with a headache. It feels in a way like drilling holes in my brain. I knew I shouldn't have stayed so long, but the bus always seems to come early nowadays. So here I am, writing with a headache, because I can't call for a lift twice in one week. I'm also hungry. And my phone's died. So I'm lonely, hungry, have a headache, and am writing because there's nothing else to do. So, what next?
It's hardly like it's the worst situation I've been in, not by far. But life still seems unfair at these times. Like all the problems I've been having with my accordion. Then my hand injury, making it hard to play properly anyway. Who would have thought turning a tap off could be so dangerous? It can feel like the world is out to get me. A hand injury, then getting a headache during my singing lesson, so I can't do that either. Getting bronchitis earlier this year felt very much the same, like someone was out to get me. So seriously, what next?
Maybe I think too negatively and that also affects my situation. But sometimes it does truly feel like I have too much bad luck. And my pen's playing up, too, like I'm having to force the words out. But I have other pens; it's just that I prefer this one. Maybe, in the same way, I have other chances; it's just that I prefer the ones I've chosen.
When things do get me down perhaps I should look at what I do have and the opportunities, instead of always looking at the negative things, even if they do shout louder. There are still so many things that I can still do, despite the disabilities. Like now, sitting here, with a headache, with a pen that intermittently stops working, still able to tell my tale, even though no one yet knows.
Written this evening whilst waiting for the bus