The implication of this funk is that I simply cannot be happy.
No. That I
Ugh. Such a funky funk. It's just
career malaise.
It's not comparison, per se. It's that nothing is happening and things could be happening, and I know they could because I was in the same space as people for whom things are happening. And
and
ugh
I wish I never felt this way. I don't wanna. I don't wanna DOOOOOOO it.
I don't wanna ugh
I don't wanna I don't waaaaaahhhnnnnaaaaa
I don't wanna. Whyyyyyyy WHhhhhyyyyy WHhhhwwwwwwwhy
Grump grump. Awful. I'm full of negative self talk. That I'm awful. Awful in all regards. Awful as someone capable of working hard. Awfully untalented. An Awful friend and partner. Awful to be so self-indulgent as to even allow myself to express that I think I'm afwul...ha afwul
Vicious cycle. It's
and now my brain is tingly and my back hurts oh and my head hurts and the implication of everything is that nothing will ever be better, only worse. Worse worse worse worse. Bad bad bad. Bad bad bad. Incompetent and bad and incompetent and that I don't do enough to inspire my child and i don't make nutritious and delicious meals and I only am a sack of lumps on the couch. Or in the chair. And my back hurts, and I'll go to sleep but I don't deserve sleep.
You are not awful, you are wonderful. A wonderful lump.
I didn't even read your whole freewrite before commenting on it. That's a terrible lump thing to do.
Like the lump on my head, I'm attached to you.