The minds in your bed.

Dear Ireland,

I’m writing in you again; I hope that isn’t too much to ask.

I know that seems like a peculiar thing to write down, especially when you were bought for this specific reason but I am in that particular mood where suddenly I feel quite a bother and I’m not sure how to shake it off.

I wouldn’t say I’ve had a rough week, it’s been far from and I’m certain I’ve had much worse but currently, I’m sitting with a bad mood (something of which I haven’t had for a great period of time) and some how, I’m almost at loss with getting rid of it.

I should also mention that it hasn’t just developed in the previous week, but in fact the past month; some how my motivation has been eaten, my drive has been stolen and every little aspect of my doing is only being done by physically dragging every ounce of blood from my body.

I’ve always wondered why us humans have this certain ‘event’ (is that even the correct description?) happen to us…it makes no sense at all, or perhaps no one is yet interested in making sense of it.

A large plus is although I feel like hands are currently around my head, I’ve managed to slip out and do the odd thing, and so I don’t think I’m too helpless or rather stupid.

It’s been such a pity to handle because it’s been one of those typical ‘sit and deal’ with it moods; writing has been at loss, my exercise works only momentarily, sleep doesn’t erase the hanging noose and yet I’m still glad my forehead hasn’t made brutal contact with the door.

I’m craving life again Ireland; I’m a little careless to how I get it…as long as I get the lift or the immediate rush, I will surely be ok. But now I thinking over my words, I sound more like a drug addict then a recovery mental health patient.

I guess no one win’s here.

Here’s to the days where your body stays in bed, but your heart carries on.

x