Kak Thursday

It's been one of those weeks that make one want to throw all caution to the wind and swallow an entire bucket full of painkillers. I am moving house in six days, so my stress level won't dip for at least a fortnight (or longer), and I am simply not able to deflect every lump of shit life throws in my face no matter how fast I dance. Being white, I can't dance that well, so next time you see me, you'd be forgiven for mistaking me for a giant turd.

I woke up today and reality was my enemy – one of those days when succumbing to consciousness means facing a shitstorm. Add a hangover and a deep sense of wrong, and you have my Thursday. Spend the rest of the day doing mindlessly dull work and painfully dissecting a drunken screaming match with my girlfriend, and it all seems rather pointless.

It's crazy how a few minutes of insult hurling can shatter an optimistic outlook and make one question everything. Yesterday at 8pm I was feeling carefree, if slightly detached, and by 10pm I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that things are never as good as you think they are, your world can turn to shit in seconds, and you aren't actually as skilled at repairing damages as you may have thought.

One thing is certain – moving house makes me wish I was dead far more frequently than usual.