The pain is back. It just sort of springs up on me sometimes out of nowhere. I’ve endured more than I can take of this social isolation and being largely confirmed to this depressing motel room and the continuous noise triggers here that are driving me insane. I won’t get to talk to an actual human being until Wednesday, which seems like a fucking eternity, as time drags so slowly.
I can’t even go out, because it’s the weekend. I have no money for food and no food left, except a nasty instant noodle bowl that will probably just make me feel disgusting rather than stop me from feeling hungry. I’ve been periodically doing squats and sit-ups to try to keep active, as I can’t go out. I can’t focus enough to read, there’s nothing on television and I’m tired of unloading my problems on my online friends and my mum.
Taking full responsibly for being in this situation is proving to be extremely difficult and is causing me to loathe myself and I don’t think I can stop myself from self-harming. My mind is racing, tormenting me with thoughts such as “you fucked up your life” and “you are weak and pathetic”. The nightmare I experienced earlier about being shoved in a nursing home with elderly people has left me with lingering depression.
I thought I was managing earlier. I had an English Premier League football game on playing in the background. I wasn’t really watching it, but it made me feel nostalgic about the UK I left behind in 2004; before the recession of 2008:and Brexit ruined it for me. I know that UK is now gone forever and it breaks my heart.
I hate this room and I bare living in a motel, in a city where I’ve no friends.