It’s the weekend and misery is still my companion. I’ve got news for you misery, I don’t want to hang out any more – you are such dull company. I know that my attention is oxygen, so I have no choice but to ignore you.
You are blocked. You can sit there all you like, but from now on, I am not talking about you, thinking about you or trying to deal with you. You’re on your own.
I’ve also got a big surprise later. We’re going to see Swan Lake at the theatre with my youngest and I have a feeling that the beauty of it will scare you off. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.
On the plus side, I ticked off all the boring tasks on my to do list yesterday and I am currently in the local library, working on the novel – or at least I was before I decided to pen this short blog post.
It’s lovely and quiet in here. I should come more often. I realise that it is hardly ever quiet at home. There are dogs barking, teenagers griping and my son, who has Asperger’s, saying ‘Hello, hello’ over and over again in a bid to get my attention. It’s driving me potty.
Now that my son has left school and is unemployed, I find that I am never alone. I crave silence and solitude and will try and make a point of finding some. I’d like to lie on the floor of a forest somewhere and just disappear into the ground.
I’ve just seen on Facebook that an old school friend has been told that she won’t live until Christmas. She must feel as if she’s been hit by a train. She doesn’t deserve this. She’s one of the kindest souls I know. My friends are dropping like flies and it makes me realise that I must make the most of this time here. In order to do that, I have to break up with misery.
I am so grateful for all that I am.