||[Aug. 11th, 2010|04:23 am]
Kelly J. Cooper
My boyfriend is one of the most unrelentingly cheerful people I know, although in a way that doesn't make me want to punch him, something I frequently feel with regard to morning people. I often wonder how he came to be attached to someone as glum as I.
For the past couple of days, I've been absolutely dedicated to being miserable and he's done nothing but tell me silly stories about the antics of his co-workers or the crazy people on the bus or this great thing in Wired or some news he heard on the radio or whatever amusing observation he has made about the day and its shenanigans. And also cook dinner, as is his wont.
And I am utterly failing to be miserable. It's actually a bit frustrating. I feel like the universe is giggling behind my back, because I dare to hope that I'll find something that I both enjoy and that makes enough money to allow me to be a contributing member of society.
I feel useless and helpless and generally lacking in any positive traits, but I'm back in neutral (with occasional shifts up to cheerful and down to glum).
He's completely destroyed my wallowing abilities, dammit.
It's a good thing I love him.