Spaghetti Days

Sometimes life leaves me feeling like overcooked spaghetti, all wobbly and about to fall apart. On spaghetti days my brain spits out the idea that I'm sick since it's the only rational explanation for feeling like such utter crap and everything becomes extremely depressing. You know when you go to turn off your computer and the color drains out of the screen? That's sorta how it feels. It seems that this mushy pasta state is the result of fighting anxiety, sometimes my thought factory can't compute all the nastiness floating around so things shut down for a while until they can be properly reset. Lately there's been a lot of stress to deal with, I think of it like viruses that the little engineers in the thought factory don't know how to deal with, so the power goes out and they all sit around in the dark waiting for the IT guy (which would be something happy) to set things back to normal. This isn't a very easy thing to explain to people either, my brain is basically running on E so rather than being able to give a proper explanation for my mopy behavior I just end up mumbling that I'm tired. And that's actually the truth, I've found spaghetti days to be a state of physical and emotional exhaustion. More often than not I don't really have the energy to explain this, and my brain is so completely done with the world that the only thing to do seems to be sitting around and waiting for that metaphorical IT guy. It feels like I'm a magnet for bad vibes. Occasionally the thought engineers will get tired of waiting for the tech support and turn the system back on, because just maybe the viruses have magically gone away, and immediately about five thousand screaming popups invade every computer screen, they all slam their hands down on a big red button, and once again they find themselves waiting in the dark. I am seriously tired of feeling like I've been left in hot water for too long. That's gonna be it for now, gang. Sorry this one was so depressing. Until next time. Much Love, Gabby