After the day I'd had in the office, indeed, the week that preceded it as well, it was no surprise that I came home low. It's also in keeping with the way that I was feeling that I ended up being bullied. I was bullied by myself. I'm not going to claim that I was entirely in total control of my faculties during this time, but there's no doubt about it. I pushed myself around Tesco, forcing myself to buy one thing, refusing myself the purchase of others, forcing decisions over toiletries with criteria like "Buy the cheapest" or "Choose the one which you least like". Overall, I had a bloody miserable time - by my own hand.

After a conversation in my head which basically involved telling myself to fuck off using the two "voices" which had been battling it out all night, I returned home, even more drained, and tried to sleep. I couldn't sleep. It wasn't the interruptions caused by phone calls and texts from friends, friends who seemed to notice that someone had taken my personality and sucked it away, to replace it with a poor simulacrum. I was just totally keyed up, stressed out, and miserable.

Apart from the shopping, the only other thing I achieved all evening was changing the bed and delivering my laundry to be done. I was a wreck.

On the up side, I did have clothes enough to wear for cycling the following day.