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i think i’m starting to get that peculiar type of depression that comes from being sick. sorry to be harping on about it, but, well, when you’re just lying around for days on end you have little else to think about.

i guess it’s times like these (when i’m feeling sorry for myself) that i realise how it can really suck to be single, or not living with family. when i’m sick i just can’t do anything for myself. the flat gets into a hopeless mess, i can only eat things that require minimal preparation so i usually end up eating biscuits and tinned spaghetti, and i just can’t get my head around doing really basic things like doing the washing up.

my dear darling mother came over this afternoon and cooked me dinner and did the dishes – what an angel! – but i was too out of it to be very good company and she let me go back to bed and went home.

but then i wake up and my flatmate’s home from work and i can’t ask him to do anything for me really cos he’s just my flatmate and he’s been at work all day and part of the problem with being sick is i get all whingey and vague and can’t actually specify what i want. but deep down all i really want is someone to be there for me to grouse at, to make me a cup of tea, to give me a hug and try to make me feel better.

i guess, ideally, that’s where someone like a spouse would step in, someone who knows you and knows what you need and loves you enough to want to make you feel better. i’m not really sure where that ideal comes from in my mind; it’s certainly not from personal experience because none of the boyfriends i’ve ever had have been any good at dealing with me when i’m sick or sad.

thank goodness for mum, eh? 🙂