I would love to lie and say that I have been busy, but I haven’t. Truth be told, the last couple of weeks have been a bit strange. The days have just merged into one long stretch of eat-work-eat-sleep-repeat. Like I’ve been watching my own life from the sidelines, not really living it. It’s not that I have been unhappy exactly, but more that there has been a lack of happiness. Not sadness, just numbness. I’m trapped in this weird, monotonous limbo – I have no idea what the hell I’m doing with my life, which doesn’t appear to matter that much seeing as other people seem to be trying to make all my decisions for me anyway. Because I don’t need to have an opinion on the city I live in, the house I live in, when I leave my current job, how I spend my weekends… It’s all making me feel kind of suffocated. I just want to escape it all, which is as funny as it is tragic. I am a 26-year-old woman who wants to run away from home.
This weekend has actually turned out to be a very welcome break from that feeling, from slightly warm Chardonnay in my best friend’s garden on Friday to a full-on high heels, short skirt and far-too-many-mojitos night out last night. Today I’ve been nursing a (mercifully) small hangover, stretched out in the sunshine, reading The Fault in Our Stars to see what the fuss is about. It’s been a perfect British summer weekend – warm, laid-back and boozy.
Hopefully I’ll be starting to feel more like myself again soon, and you won’t need to read any more of these miserable, self-pitying posts. Until then, I would recommend that you go and have a giggle at Lucy or Frankie’s blogs, or coo over an adorable puppy on Gemma’s blog.
Normal service will resume shortly.