I woke up happy this morning. I made a plan with my mum to go watch a film. Then had the world's best cinnabun...the kind that melted on my tongue the second it landed on it. We proceeded to see Julie & Julia - possibly one of the happiest films I've seen in a long time. Meryl Streep's joy was infectious; every cell in my body was laughing with her.
I thought I'd blog about how good I felt but then I fell asleep.
Woke up feeling unsettled, restless and dying to get out of the house but without the fight of finding an autorickshaw and wearing thirty layers of clothing to protect from the cold. I struggled between these two conflicting emotions, feeling more and more frustrated by the minute. The familiar, helpless loneliness (always, always waiting in the wings, waiting to swoop in when I'm not paying attention) descended.
Suddenly a near-perfect day had turned into one of hopelessness. As if a switch had been turned off.