I can’t be bothered to do any writing today. I mean I don’t want to say that  I’m depressed or anything. But I don’t know. I didn’t get out of bed until half eleven. And then I just got up and lay back down on the sofa. It’s fine for a teenager, but not someone in their forties. I mean I don’t think I’ve got manic depression, like Robbie Williams or Kerry Katona. I guess it just feels like I’m sort of operating on the surface of things. That the real meat of something is being kept away from me.

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