Someone slap me out of it

So much for my efforts to write every day. I haven't even opened my notebook since last week.

Current situation: $40 in wallet, nothing in bank account, waiting (still) for pay to come through, rent due on Monday, owe my mother money (still), the cat's need (expensive) flea drops (scratch, scratch) and I feel like the biggest failure.

Wants: Pay up all my bills, pay mother (I mean, what adult needs to borrow from her mother, for Christ's sake!?), get Nina to the vet for her booster shots and de-flea the little critters, put a deposit on a guitar (I did head this 'wants', not 'needs'), get a hair cut, eyelash tint and leg wax. Exciting, non?

Mind you, I'm a bit nervous of the hair cut. At present, my style is known as 'growus outus' with a dash of 'hacked fringe to maintain sight' thrown in. Despite this, it actually doesn't look too horrendous. The style I'm looking at might look ok, or it might make me look like Michelin Man with a soccer ball head... Wilson!!

Before I realised just how long I was going to wait for my next lot of cash, I splurged and bought myself some very nice perfume, in an attempt to make me feel a little less unattractive. It worked. I can sniff my wrist and know that at least my watch smells good.

I guess this is all just a symptom of feeling out of control; whatever fragile construct of self esteem I have shatters and melts, like frosted ice on the windscreen.

And which is sadder: actually signing up on an internet dating site (gotta be in it to win it); or signing up and having only one contact in a fortnight, from someone with whom I seemingly have absolutely nothing (except perhaps girth size) in common.

I don't think I'm really equipped for the big wide world.