Ever have those days where you want to delete everything, pack up your stuff and go and live in the jungle, despite knowing you have the dexterity of a panda and probably wouldn’t survive more than a few hours?

Today is one of those days.

My blood pressure is all over the place, my mood swinging more than a child who has just eaten an entire multi-pack of Fun Size treats, been shaken to mix it all up, given an energy drink and let loose on the playground.

The mood is violent.

I wish ill on everyone simply for existing. The sensory overload is at an all-time high. Someone so much as looks at me and I’m ready to pull their pants down and stretch their underwear over their head.

The train has stopped, but I still feel like I’m moving.

Hideous.

It’s probably my own stupid fault. I spent the weekend with my friend and we’ve eaten nothing but rubbish. On Friday I said I wanted to be healthy, but I didn’t put my foot down, and now I face the consequences of my own choices.

Surely junk food alone can’t be responsible for wanting to shut the world off… can it?

There’s this constant drone on the train.

You know the sort. People trying to be quiet but somehow becoming louder because of it. Chatter full of nothingness. Stories that meander nowhere. People performing their lives before an audience that never asked to watch.

I want to rage.

I don’t enjoy feeling like this. Nobody does.

But sometimes it feels like my default setting. Disappointment everywhere. In everything. Even when there were never any expectations to begin with.

Then there’s social media.

It feeds it.

Every irritation becomes another post. Every grievance finds an audience. Every dark thought finds ten darker ones waiting in the comments. Before long, you’re spiralling with people you’ve never met over problems that didn’t even exist an hour ago.

They’re just thoughts. They don’t go anywhere. They don’t do anything.

But I really would like to push the person using loudspeaker on public transport off a cliff.