The one thing I really despise about myself is how easily I stray from the right choices the minute things get tough. With moving countries again, social dynamic changes and the uncertainty of the future, I did exactly what I had taught my self to do in the 12th grade, eat comfort food and buy lingerie. However I soon learnt that my beliefs of sour cream & onion Pringles and Agent Provocateur curing me from a bad boyfriend and the stress of the IB were false, it was simply time. As time went on I graduated, got my diploma, got out of the draining relationship and moved on. Granted the transition was very rocky at times, but changes did occur. I've now spent a month moping in my room spooning both Ben & Jerry every chance I got. Despite my internal clock telling me everything turned to shit yesterday and I still had a right to sit in my messy room, in pitch black darkness listening to Sam Smith on replay, my lifeless dirty hair and old navy hobo look told me otherwise. I had failed at feeling better. I had let time pass, and I had eaten a whole summer camps worth of ice cream, but I felt worse about my self. My mind was angry. Angry about wasting almost four weeks on doing nothing. Or nothing with the exception of learning all the depressing heartbreak lyrics out there.. my favourite quote still remains: Unrequited love is nothing but a one man cult, and one man cult is nothing but a bad religion, thank you for that Mr.Ocean. I forced myself out of my hobo look and into my mules.
Wether I really feel that much better or it's this bipolar sunshine state working as a placebo drug, the fact that this work week also starts with another bank holiday I am for once in my life so happy that it's a monday.