Maybe I submit to Winter now

I just got super upset because I'm not committed enough to be satisfied and I'm not free enough to do what I absolutely want. I am in limbo. You are free, you are not committed, you have this lifestyle which is so coffee but when it comes to spontaneously booking a £4 opera ticket on Saturday, you can't do it because you are closing the shop till half 7. That's that. The end of it. Responsibility. Consequence. Result. Tough.

I had to call in sick for work at 5am on Monday. It made me so upset I cried after I put the phone down. It's not normal to call your boss at 5am and apologise for being ill and unslept and have them be nice to you. It made me upset because I didn't want to to be doing it, but I didn't have a choice, I was helpless. Similarly, I didn't have a choice with a closing shift on Saturday. I can be a version of spontaneous, free of the nine to five, days here and there, earlies and lates there and here, but ultimately we are all bound by our means. There has to be a line somewhere which says STOP. You can't afford this in time or money.

I was just doing my accounts. It made me so depressed. I got so carried away on Friday after the celebrity dancer spotting and makeup and Champagne and Quality Street that I spent £42 in Space NK that I really cannot Afford. Means. I am questioning mine. I am running this show to the penny and whilst that is admirable it's also scary. What are my true needs? If I always spend exactly what I have, with a buffer of three thousand pounds, what the hell does it say about me? Is the want grown from the means, or do the means wrap around the want, squeeze and meld it to size? If I ever earn a 'decent' wage, what sort of person will I be? Would I go to pilates and have massages and wear Isabel Marant and not finish my breakfast at Ottolenghi?

I am just waffling sadness because I am ill. I am limbo ill though. Fine enough in the body, but my lungs are just having this huge fight I can't help them with. I can't go into the fresh air as my throat will be attacked by shards and the lungs will weep. My back is aching. It's about this time I start to feel hugely sorry for myself, not well enough to enjoy being off work, not ill enough to forget myself. I was hugely interested in the two side of the brain thing. They are dealing with different parts of being me. I would like to find out more about it. How much do I control this now-yearly chest attack, bring it on myself, and how much is just the turning of the seasons.