“I wish I was like you
Find my nest of salt
Everything’s my fault
I’ll take all the blame”
Nirvana – All Apologies
Sometimes I think I am the witless victim of my own enthusiasm – the fact that I’ve sat here for ten minutes examining my own fingernails and wondering about what vitamin would stop them splitting, and what the hell I’m going to write about, and how for the third night in a row I have a headache, suggests to me that this is hardly going to be a stellar re-entry into Finish the Sentence Friday.
But it’s okay, because there’s no way I’m going to make it (awake) til opening time, so I’ll be snuggled up in my bed, swaddled in a snuggly quilt and two blankets (for the weight, because it makes me feel safer), hoping to stay unconscious til morning, when I have to get up and do it all again. I’ll just drop this post somewhere into the middle of the link-up, and rather than getting to shout a gleeful “FRIST” on as many posts as possible (as I used to do), I’ll be sedate and quiet and contemplative, and in all fairness I might not leave a comment or even get around the hop, because time slips through my fingers like smoke, these days, and somehow ALL THE THINGS come to naught.
I got laundry done this evening. I’m considering that an accomplishment, even though I didn’t manage to open a letter which is to do with my utilities provider, because I’m anxious that it’s going to demand something of me, and Husby
deals with dealt with that. So it’s sitting, within arm’s reach, screaming obscenities at me for being a coward and a hopeless, useless couche-tard, and I know I need to silence it by opening it and taking away some of the terror of What Might Be In There…but at the moment I feel like being yelled at (even by envelopes).
I spoke to online friends, and I went boxing, and I tired myself to the point of dizziness (and at said point, remembered for the second (or was it third?) time that I’d forgotten to take my meds today, and I should get right on that, but somehow the everything-elseness of the day just didn’t lend itself to taking meds, and it became an obstacle which was too huge to get over, so I didn’t) and I came home, then went out again to vote, then showered and ate my dinner in silence, because silence is something I’ve got so much of now.
It’s not UNpeaceful. And most of the time it’s welcome. But in spite of the fact you can’t build a marriage on having someone around just to talk to when you feel like it, tonight I’m lonely. I want someone to call me up and invite me to dinner, and to go and see The Avengers, and just be OUT and laugh, and talk, and not be quelled by this silence, rising up from the floor to drown me.
In spite of the satisfaction when I look around and see the very first beginnings of a fresh start, something happens, like needing to hang up the laundry, and I remember that he used to hang up the socks because I hate doing those.
In spite of it being clean and tidy and not tied-up-in-knots-inside-y, the night I yelled at a cricket to STOP FRIKKIN CHIRRUPING and it did, and afterwards, my eardrums nearly bled from just how quiet and how alone I was…then I was sad, and desperately alone-and-not-loving-it.
In the sun
In the sun I feel as one
In the sun
In the sun
I’m I can’t remember how many days into life After. Which means life Alone. And now his stuff is gone and the place is clean and neat and unrecognisable, it’s all me. For now. Until Vince gets here. Which I’m really looking forward to, because apparently I’m not that great by myself. And by ‘not that great’, let’s just say…oh, you know what, let’s NOT just say. I’ve said it all this week, and I’m sick of the sound of my own words.
And sure, I could reach out. I could ask any number (okay, not ANY number – maybe five) of my friends-and-relations whether they’d let me come round, or come out with me someplace, or just BE THERE, to interact with and to hear another human voice outside working hours…but frankly I feel so tired of my own mind that I don’t really want to subject them to it.
This week, I wanted to give it all up, close everything down and un-be the whatever-it-is that I am here in this world between the wires. The noisy, angry voices in my mind started telling me how pathetic it all was, anyway, and how on earth could I think it really, TRULY mattered or made a difference, when it was all just words and binary code, and whatever people want to put out there. A couple of people said I should give it time. Another said my words would be missed (sweetie, this is mostly for you – sorry/whatevs – I wrote, ‘mkay?). Still more agreed that they’d felt the same, and were uninspired to go on, which made me sad because this malaise isn’t unique.
What else should I write?
I don’t have the right.
What else should I be?
I don’t know what I want to do. To write? To blog? To delete it all and take myself back into Real Life in the vain hopes it might help? Or to immerse and let go, and just write whatever it is that’s in me to write (including this – sorry) and not worry about conventions and etiquette and the importance of Being Present.
Because you can’t ever be. Not really.
Because online, I can make you think what I want to, as long as I have the words. This entire post could be an utter lie, and I could be sunning myself on a beach, somewhere, absolutely ticketty-boo, and laughing behind my hand at anyone who takes this seriously.
Or it could be true, and all of the messages in the world might not be enough to fill the silence, and I might be hearing warning bells on the horizons of my mind, because I know that when I get like this, I need people, and at the moment I don’t WANT people…which generally means I really, really, really need them.
Or it could be nothing. *I* could be nothing.
But here’s the rub: you’ll never know, because you weren’t here when this happened…
All in all is all we are…
And somewhere, eventually, when the time is right, you should head over to Kristi’s blog and see who else linked up…