Down Under

For Hind and Maya (and myself really), for when we just want to go uuuuuufffffftttt with life, with the hope it’ll make you smile

Down under…The Duvet I mean. 

Let He, or She, or Thee who has never felt the extreme urge to NOT get out of under the duvet cast the first stone. Ooooh come on, you know what I mean. Those awful days when you wake up, have a good look at the world/your life/all of the above and go “uh oh, not gonna happen today”. Those awful days when all you only really want to do is stay in bed, do nothing except chronically obsess on things and thoughts, all wide eyed and panicky, the sweat drenching the sheets making them cling to your limp body (also known as having a panic attack) (also known as it being 4 ‘clock in the morning and you feeling so awake you’re deconstructing your life and the world and building it up back again). Those days where lifting your hand to grab a glass of water is considered a performance that could (and should) qualify for the Olympics. 

Granted there are a few reasons that make taking to bed so alluring: 

-You can chain smoke without having to suffer the wrath of politically correct clean air obsessed intruders (note: this SHOULD not be allowed if you’re drunk or a rock star or both, too many accidents might happen and let’s face it, you’re having a bad day but dying burnt alive in your bed would only make it worse)

– You can read and read and read and read, which would undeniably make you feel better. Whenever I feel nauseous with life, my remedy lies with Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City, easy yet witty yet entertaining literature that usually manages to take me far enough from my anxieties, but any book would do (except perhaps Danielle Steel’s novels, but are they really novels and could they qualify as books?)

– You can wallow in self pity. Tucked away from the world, curled up in your bed in the safety of lavender-scented sheets, you can let all your Zelda Fitzgerald drama queen-esque sentiments transpire while the rest of the world is out there dealing with life. The fools! Better bawling your eyes out, redecorating your room with tissues 

– You can listen to some extremely depressing music (Joy Division, Love will Tear Us Apart, just listen to those lyrics) and really feel what they mean jaknow? Like, Right on brother

But enough laughing, your alarm clock’s ringing, you’re already late for work, so stop toying with the idea of being rooted to your bed until the men in white come to remove you with a truck. Truth is, staying in bed all wide-eyed and dishevelled is just pointless, useless and, most of all, so mind-fuckingly just plain boring. True, it might be easier than going out to deal with the world, but really, kicking ass while prostrated in bed just lacks a bit of panache don’t you think?


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