I FEEL LIKE I'M GOING TO LAY AN EGG

Hens always get at least a little bit stressed when their inner clock signals it's time to lay an egg.
This happens to us human females as well, twelve times each year.
Today I've felt all weary for no good reason. Not merely lonely, not merely bored, not merely "since I can't get out of this place without leaving alone, better off to stay at home, but I don't feel like gaming or reading or listening..." WEARY. So weary. Like Hamlet at the start of the play. With the feeling of a lump or a frog in my throat, or rather a garrote wire. Like Joffrey after that last drink at his wedding feast.
Weary and powerless, or rather full of power but also of restraints for using it. I feel like getting drunk, dead drunk, but there's no liquor around I can drown my sorrows in.
And thus, I'm crying. I'm typing because I cannot speak a single word in this predicament I live in. Typing and shedding tears. Typing and shedding tears and feeling empty and weary.
Maybe it's because I just bled early this morning.
Or is there something more?
I wish the weekend were come to an end and I could get to the tennis court at university, to find a partner --on Friday I had none, resigning myself to running and serving and running and serving.
I wish to get word from Ser Uttam, whether in Kutztown or wherever he might be.
I wish my mum would get healed of her depression, or fourth stage of grief, or PTSD, or combination of all three above.
I wish for a lot of things.
And that's because they're out of my reach.
Which makes me feel powerless.
Which makes me feel weary.
Ich habe keine Lust...

But you can't make Hamlet without breaking a few egg-sistential certainties.
I have already talked about this topic regarding Ralf Hart and Zangra, but, given the biological underpinnings of this bout of weariness, I will offer a female example of such a crisis. From a Takarazuka-inspired anime, no less:

NANAMI NO TAMAGO (七実の卵)

There's this Utena episode where Nanami, the class queen bee, lays an egg.

It's largely a fascinating, surrealistic perspective on the subject of the female curse;

one that sounds like Hamlet crossed over with both Salvador Dalí and Takarazuka.

Nanami Kiryú is Hamlet(te). Try to figure out whom each and every character in her class equals their respective Elsinore counterpart...