Warning. Rant ahead.

3-2-1 GO.

And yes, thanks for asking, I am really stressed and worried and panicky and yes, I do feel spectacularly like I am failing in every way, and no, I don't have very much courage left, and no, I don't have very much resolve left, and yes, what I am doing sends me into a head-spin if I even stop to think about it for a minute because I don't even have a fucking job to support myself with, and yes, I am scared and yes, I did cry all the way to Bristol and back today because of the fear, and yes, you're right, even I, even Pollyfuckinganna occasionally needs to be on the other side of the conversation.

Like this:

"Are you OK?"
"No not really. Because randomdiatribeofallthingsbadthattakesafewminutesandisverycathartic. But thanks for asking, I feel better now."

But no-one ever does. Because that's not my role. Is it. That's not who I am. Is. It.

I am just here to make everybody else feel good.


Here endeth the rant.