A weekend in the doghouse

I fell out with myself on Saturday — someone let me down and from that, because I know they’re a let down, I gave myself a caning for putting myself through it (again). Stern words, chewed out — I wouldn’t speak to anyone as I choose to speak to myself. As with most rants A begot D and so on, and the original point soon got lost amongst louder flaws.

The gist of my rage: I don’t help myself — I work against myself — I know what I need to do and do the opposite; it’s like I refuse to grow up. I have no willpower, no discipline — I’m unmotivated and lazy, and etcetera of things just as truthful.

Since my bollocking I’ve felt like I’m in the doghouse, taunting me from outside the doghouse — confused sensation, reminds me of being a teen.

Will I be allowed out tomorrow?

Tomos James