Yesterday (All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away) I was busy. Locked in battle with the last dregs of my university work. Being, actually, rather good. 3 out of 4 stars - that's 3/4 of my day without succumbing to Trichotillomania. I see that as a breakthrough. I have done better before - but not for a long while, so I am proud of myself. Hurrah for me! (Not, of course, that I could ever be anything other than proud of myself, being, as I am, tremendously concieted.)
Today, however, has been a different matter already. I was suddenly overcome by the feeling that I had done my work and been good and that it was time to indulge myself. When ice-cream (commanded but denied) did not materialise, I sank into a highly enjoyable snuggling into the blue cushion of self-pity. The world was wronging me, I told myself. I had worked damn hard and the world didn't give a damn. (This despite the world's protestations of quite the opposite.) I had only asked for ice-cream. Fine then. I would be naughty. And I was. For all the good it did me.
Today, however, has been a different matter already. I was suddenly overcome by the feeling that I had done my work and been good and that it was time to indulge myself. When ice-cream (commanded but denied) did not materialise, I sank into a highly enjoyable snuggling into the blue cushion of self-pity. The world was wronging me, I told myself. I had worked damn hard and the world didn't give a damn. (This despite the world's protestations of quite the opposite.) I had only asked for ice-cream. Fine then. I would be naughty. And I was. For all the good it did me.
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