I’m not sure how they always manage to do it, but right when I’m doing completely fine, my family always manages to steal my happiness from me.
Through a chain of events this week, they’ve weighed me down with a familiar weariness. The kind of thing that makes it hard for me to lift my arms. My chest, it’s heavy, right at the base of my throat. In the morning, I think I can’t get up, but then again, I also can’t sleep. Even writing is becoming impossible.
Still, I’m going to write on this stupid fucking blog! Forgive me.
So, Cannes has been this past week. Although it used to be a classy affair—or at least it used to seem like that to me—it now seems an eddying point for the flotsam that jams the flow of news in the tabloid media.