I have been sick. I am often sick. And of course, I would have to get sick before a huge job interview.
On Monday, I interviewed for a new job at my previous office, The Arts Council. I hope I get it. I hope I don’t get it. I hope I make up my fucking mind. I have no idea how the interview went. If I get the job, it’s a year-long contract. I definitely need a job. But I don’t know how I’ll fare there. The last time I worked there, I wanted out after only three months. The stress was incredible.
Speaking of stress, the first day of cognitive behavioural therapy is tomorrow. I get to wake up indecently early to go to the local crazy house, sit in a room with 20 other crazy people, and talk about crazy feelings. Actually, I have no idea what goes on there, so the last point is all conjecture. I also get to go to a meeting at the local “Youth Association” to talk about improvements to the city and events-planning for young people. I am so unbelievably indifferent.
Holy shit, my stomach and intestines feel as if there’s Draino burrowing its way through them. I feel like I’m going to hurl. Or sit on a fucking toilet for an hour.
Speaking of which, it was my sister’s birthday yesterday (the 23rd). Why does shit make me think of that? Like I really get along with my sister. 90% of the time, we hate each other.
I should go to bed. I am exhausted. Fucking diabetes. And anaemia.