‘I’m fine’, I have told myself after I woke up still before 5 am. I repeated it few times, just to taste with my tongue, with my teeth – every single word. I have said it for practice…
Today it wasn’t about the worse me vs. the better me; today was about the worst of me. Today, after waking up, it took me twice the time than usual to stop clenching my teeth. Today I didn’t dare to look into a mirror. Today – today it wasn’t my day.
I’ve made myself do things, things that today seemed to me stupid and pointless nevertheless I thought it’s better than all the other alternatives. So I have been sending my project proposals to various galleries thinking to myself that my art is shit and what the fuck am I trying to achieve? After that, knowing that I need to do it, I went out to look for a job because being a starving artist might sound very decadent and interesting, while in a real life – it’s not. Once out and before reaching any of the places I was supposed to leave my CV, I’ve got four emails with polite refusals from the galleries. Fuck. And then the fun begins – of speaking with strangers and knowing very well that, especially today, my face looks pretty darn miserable. Would you actually hire someone this sad? I wouldn’t – but it has to be done. It’s being done. It has been done.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I have made myself eat. I haven’t messaged the Boy that we need to stop seeing each other. I haven’t cried. Innate optimism is pouring out of my ears. Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.
 I’ve used to grind my teeth at sleep, now I am waking up with the locked jaw. Fun.
 obviously I didn’t just get up and go. First there was an issue with how do I look. Still without looking into a mirror as it is another trap on the days you feel like shit and you are convinced that – well – you are so bloody f-ugly – I’ve tried to make myself at least slightly representable (i.e. wear clothes without holes). Then I stood for a half an hour next to the door telling myself: ‘You are fine’. Then I have finally made it out. Even more fun.