Don't particularly like myself at the moment. In fact, ah f***in' hate masel'! Think am a completely c**t - unlikeable, dour.... Just f***in' miserable.
Oh, ma mum bein' tha "Stupid. Idiot. C**t"
as she's now nicknamed herself - there's somebuddy who loves themselves, huh?! Also, that nickname would be a great name if ye were every to do a stand-up comedy show durin' the Edinburgh Festival. Or just the poster alone...
But she's just be her usually toxic, negative, self. Makes me appreciate when the nurses an physiotherapist pay me a visit cuz they're actually smiling, upbeat folk. The only time ah ever smile, except when watchin' ma favourite comedy series or comedian.
Oh, and summit odd happened the day, when ma mum went for the "messages"
- in other words, to the supermarket. The nurse who's huvin a quick visit to give me daily injection to prevent blood clots in ma legs forn the last month, lets herself in - as she'd be told to that first week.
Since ah cannae exactly answer the door due to the plaster casts hindering ma general mobility at the moment. Anyway, she knocks on the front door, enter tha house and goes:
"Hullo! Anybuddy home? Mr. Kanu, are ye there?"
There's a short pause as ah realise that am gonnae huv tae raise ma voice a bit mair than usual here. Just enough, she hears me. But not too loud... That it scares tha shite outta her.
"Aye, am here in the livin' room - just that door oan yer right, there. "
^ Ah know that might seem trivial to y'all. But for a shy, introverted, quiet self-conscious wee man like me, that's quite an achievement in itself, especially with ma voice.
Don't ye just wish ah could be as matter of fact an tae tha point as tha rest of fellow anxious folk? At least, you're posts are a few sentences and yer f***in' done. Must be that Scottish storyteller in me? We dinnae half blether when we git goin'... Sorry.