I was not designed to process this. It is not good for me.
Loneliness, punishing myself for previous naivety, daily routine reminders, a wicked horrible path I weave, cigarettes, strong coffees and terrible food, an occasional outburst of terrible blues. I was not prepared for this.
The music stopped and I carried on dancing, way into the darkness of the night. Nobody left in the building as I went to retrieve my coat. The only coat left on a once bustling rack.
Outside into the cold air of the night, a long walk home, now on my own. Loneliness, years pass, sadness grows.
I am now an overweight wreck.
I can barely breathe, with nothing achieved.
Longing for a previous optimism. No there is not one second of it.
I do not allow myself to stray towards a pleasant thought, the land of inclusion.
I wish to be mended.
I am nearly there now.
A Siberian winter and the Sahara heat both compete to make me retreat.
I remind myself.