You guys, it’s just been one of those days where you log onto your bank’s website 50 times while you’re at work and you try to add things up, try to will the numbers to be different, and you regret every stupid thing you’ve bought for the past six months and you beat yourself up and you call your mom on your lunch break and then again after work and you cry on the phone because you can’t afford Christmas gifts or the stupid fucking expensive Christmas cards you bought and your family deserves better, your boyfriend and your friends deserve better than this girl without self-control, without the capacity for austerity or the ability to lose weight or get up early. You eat old chocolate out of the fridge and you pack a suitcase and you try to think of anything but this - the money and the weight and the failure and the heaviness in your chest - and you hug your boyfriend for a long time and text your mom again, even though she won’t answer, and you vow to change, you swear you’re going to get your shit together, you’ll be better, you’ll be smarter, more grownup and a better daughter, and you get in bed early, wheels still turning, throat still lumpy, evening still all fucked up. And you remember that Thanksgiving is just days away, that you still have a life you love, in spite of pants sizes and empty savings accounts, despite not being the sort of girl who updates her Facebook daily with the reasons why she’s thankful, you’re still thankful, mad at yourself as you are. And you realize you could spend all fucking night listing the reasons why you don’t deserve to be happy, and then you could tear that list to pieces or you could sleep and try this damn thing again in the morning.
You know those days?