There’s nothing an overpriced face mask can’t fix.

If Co Star fails for words of wisdom, I can usually fallback on Flo to tell me my hormones are out of whack, which will explain times when I hate everyone and everything.

I’ve decided I am miserable due to my recent lack of vegetables.

Not from interrupted sleep. I forgot what it was like to sleep with a man who resembles a wart hog and makes me jump every three hours. Or from seeing my super-hot-athletic-tall-skinny-blonde friend amidst her 10k hardly breaking a sweat. I am not that jealous. Or bitter.

When my boyfriend is away I survive mostly on cereal, the odd huel, and frozen pizza.

So I went to Tesco. I hate supermarkets. And food shopping. I could go as far to say despise. But needs must. Max parking three hours? Who is spending three hours here, unless they have had a fatal accident? To make matters worse, I parked as far away to the entrance as possible. Chat GPT suggested exercise will lift my mood. Did this count?

It was raining as I left the store.

I forgot to buy anything other than facemasks and rich tea biscuits. But I had protein bars made with flaxseed, protein powder, peanut butter, and whatever else is supposed to increase your lifespan.

Should I get an ice roller and take ginger shots every morning?

Or is the daily gua shua and forgetting to drink enough water enough?

I’ll be sure to add spinach to my pizza this evening.

At one point in my life, I actually was depressed.

Tried therapy. Sort of. Not for depression. It was inspired by insomnia, which was inspired by nightmares. Instead of sleeping tablets, I was referred to therapy.

Are you supposed to have nightmares above the age of seven?

*not a rhetorical question

She essentially told me, in a more millennial-reading-off-a-script-and/or-texbook-kind-of-way to touch grass. She explained I am very smart, and self aware. That its great I enjoy my job, have a social life, I am active and don’t do drugs or drink excessive amounts of alcohol. That I know what triggers me, and what makes me feel good. That skipping meals isn’t all bad until you faint. Obviously.

I didn’t lie to the therapist, but I did hate that job. My social life is great when I don’t cancel plans. My mum ruined any potential of me being able to enjoy alcohol, hence why I ticked the ‘not an alcoholic’ box. I am self aware because I have always had to be. And if I wasn’t so active, then I would be fat.

I never went back to therapy. I think thats for the best. I specialise in telling people how (I think) it is, and ignore any advice. Whether thats the best way to change a tyre, or my way of thinking.

Once I have finished reading ‘Really Good, Actually’ I am going to read ‘The Stranger’. Good Reads assumes I will really like this, so I am excited.