18.03.14

It was a Tuesday and it was early. Super early. Earlier then what i was used to. Normally when i’m up that early it’s because i haven’t slept at all, but this day was different. I’d had an hour or so nap and had been woken by something or another. I’d had a rough night and felt like crap. 

It’s a rare occasion when i’m awake so early. In light of that we decided to have breakfast out. We took the 20-30 minute car ride to a favourite restaurant of ours, The Carvery. 
I threw a comfy jumper, leggings and my boots on. My hair was a mess; unmanageable and resembled that of a birds nest. The only think possible was to scoop it into a bun and sprits some hairspray on it. You columnist get a brush through it let alone style it into something half decent. I looked in the mirror. Someone starred back blankly. is that me?. It didn’t look like me. In fact if i hadn’t recognised the clothes, i could of sworn it was someone else -a stranger stuck in my bathroom mirror. She was pale and cold, her eyes deep and dark like huge craters lodged in her head. 
Having the rude awaken that my eyes compared that of corpse’ bride, i was persuaded to dab some concealer on. I applied some with the tip of my finger and as quickly as i applied it, it absorbed into my skin without a trace. “Sod it”, i thought to myself. There was no point. I tucked up into my coat and we headed out. 
The weather duplicated me. The sky -a thick blanket of misery. A sheet of cloudy cold weather hovering over me. Both figuratively and literally. Atleast we’re on the same page, i thought. As the engine roared into action we set off through town and onto the motorway. I put my earphones in and tuned out. 
The middle sections of our journey always seems the longest. Not the middle of any journey or route but the middle of this particular route to get to the restaurant. We go past the Sittingbourne junction and it takes forever to get to the next junction, Faversham. Almost as though time stands still and its a never ending cycle that is forced upon us. It’s identical to my health in many ways. A never ending rollercoaster ride. Just when you’ve reached a turning point you realise there’s still a long way to go. 
Precisely 28 minutes later we arrived. Sat and enjoyed a traditional British breakfast. A plate of grease in all its glory, washed down with a brew. As the day went on my belly whined and moaned at all the junk i’d bestowed on it. Maybe it weren’t such a good idea after all. 
After that greasy trip out i reunited with my cosy pyjamas and retired to my bed where i curled up and didn’t plan on moving until i’d sufficiently renewed my energy with enough disney classics’ movies. 
Cheerio for now!

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