I have good days, and I have bad days. Good days, I'm happy, I like me, and I feel perfectly entitled to the good life that I have. On bad days, I fear that when the people who know me really find out how useless, stupid, what have you, that I am, I'll lose it all.
This week, I've had good days. I attribute this, possibly, to the increased workout schedule. It's helped in the past. I'm takin bupoprion, but therapeutic levels aren't generally reached for several weeks. I was a little shaky on Monday, but nothing since then. I worked out hard for nearly two hours on Wednesday, and did a nice little workout this morning.
I like good days. I like days that are good.
