Sometimes Everything Is Wrong

God, you know you’ve hit new lows of patheticness (pathos? No, I want to emphasize the fact that I view this state of mind as pathetic and discomforting, and something to be gotten over as soon as possible) when you put on Automatic For The People, and for the first time, ever, Everybody Hurts strikes an emotional chord with you.

I am currently an annoyed and unwilling poster child for human frailty. An old and unconquered fear murmurs and shifts in its sleep, and I’m tiptoeing round it for fear of rousing it from dormancy.

What if people don’t care about me anywhere as much as I care about them…
Oh get over it, Michelle, you know that’s irrational and insecure and girly and un-Michellian.
Hey, I can prove it. I realized today that out of the good friends I bought Christmas presents for, not one of them bothered with anything for me.
Hmmm. You might have a point there.

This is the problem. My normal font thoughts usually stomp all over the wimpy italicized ones. But not these days.

Here’s another problem. I have a semi-final moot in three hours. I have had two hours of sleep. I have had to spend the morning pretending to be interested in the Commonwealth, of all things. The last thing I need right now is all this normal human being type emotional claptrap.