If you’ve never heard the piece “The Snow” by Elgar, you need to.
This entire week has put me in the rather melancholy/irritated mood of e minor, which “The Snow” is set to. I just haven’t been myself, or rather, the self I’d like to be.
I am so tired. It’s not altogether from lack of sleep, although that contributes. It’s more from lack of confidence, lack of fun on my part that keeps me restrained and stressed and beat.
I just want to be home. And that’s an excuse, since I love it here. That’s a cop-out response to a stress-triggered demand: why are you like this?
Why am I like this? No fun and antisocial and sad and unsure of myself or what I’m doing or how I’m doing it or if I’m doing it properly?
Why am I like this?
I don’t know.