Don't run.

I made a mistake yesterday. Not a massive one, but enough to make me embarrassed. I ran away to the cinema, and watched David Brent: Life on the road. God, it depressed me. It wasn't funny, or well observed, it was cynical and charmless, and had a dead heart. It made me so much more ashamed of my fuck up. I went for a drink by myself afterwards which made things worse. Then I came home and watched the last episode of the truly, truly brilliant Fleabag. Smart, funny as fuck and heartbreaking, I felt uplifted and brave, my blunder was to attempt to explain the way I feel to someone. So what if they don't get me? Hardly anybody gets me. Fuck it. I'm bloody marvellous.