I’ve felt off-kilter for the past couple days. Nothing I can specifically say that’s it, just a vague feeling of unease and anxiety.

Which really sucks.

When I was at the gym doing crunches, I had the following conversation with myself.

Me: eighteen, nineteen…
Me: Why am I doing this.
Me: …
Me: Really. Do I care how I look?
Me: twenty, twenty-one?
Me: No. I don’t care. So why am I doing these damned crunches?
Me: Um… twenty-two?
Me: If I’m walking thirty minutes a day isn’t that ENOUGH?
Me: Er… twenty-three?
Me: My stomach is never going to be flat, why am I bothering?
Me: twenty-four.
Me: I hate this. I hate crunches.
Me: (sigh)
Me: (stares at the ceiling)
Me: Because. That’s why. Because it’s good for you.
Me: But I don’t like doing crunches. They’re boring. They aren’t doing me any good. I feel bloated.
Me: one, two, three…

I hate Mondays.