A week before my birthday. Trying to get out of a rut, and walk more.
Maybe I can lose the “big lady” tag. Will probably take more than two days though. These saddle bags did not appear over night.
I work and at the weekends I’m by myself usually. Watching films on my laptop and eating crisps.
It’s weird, everyone looks forward to weekends. I’m stuck between appreciating the free time and the feeling of utter dread knowing I will spend over 48 hours on my own, in my own company. With my own thoughts such as “is this my life now?”
When I am 40, am I going to be sharing a house in Stepney with four others in their mid-twenties, sitting on my single bed eating pop tarts for breakfast?
This weekend is much the same. I have no plans. I know no one in London besides my work colleagues and the familiar face I see on the DLR.
I’ll make my own entertainment I decide.
I’ll take my camera out. I loved photography and my ex bought me a DSLR camera for a course I did in it a year before.
I’ll go to Shoreditch. Lots of cool stuff there. Perhaps I can post it on social media and my dwindling Facebook acquaintances will think I go to trendy places.
And have friends.
This was one photo I took on Shoreditch High Street. One of my favourites. It’s dark and the face looks like it is grimacing a bit.
Just like how I feel.
Bright and sunny on the outside, surrounded by black that is creeping its way further in.
Pretend everything is ok.
I read somewhere if you smile eventually you will feel happier. I wonder how long that takes to work.