I was in a right funk yesterday. Alternating between extreme fatigue (just one step away from having the room spinning) to short bursts of energy (whenever I listened to a good song like Dancing Queen or Sander Kleinenberg's dropping of a good tune) to fits of extreme frustration.

I swear... I've tried everything I can think of to snap myself out of it. Everything except drugs and cigarettes, that is. And I have no clue what's causing it - dissatisfaction with my job, my life, my everything, I don't know. So I just drank.

So, between the alcohol and the exhaustion, I don't quite know how I ended up dancing with an air force pilot who later on 'borrowed' my phone to SMS himself thereby ensuring he got my number with minimal fuss.

Do I think he's cute? He's not bad, but then there's always a certain je ne sais quoi about fighter pilots.

My friend said he's not worthy of me and that I could do so much better. But then again, my friends have been saying that for ages.

And it beats trying to move on. Why I'm still trying so hard to get over something that never was - with two men at that - I'll never know.