For some reason, I woke up this morning with a need to write. Perhaps it is because I haven’t really been OK in a long time… I’ve been going through the motions ignoring the fact that I was hurt, crushed down and then tore apart again. I’m a strong person so I don’t like to wollow in that, but the ‘move along’ stratergy that has worked for a while has come to a crashing hault leaving me to feel sore.
My distraction of choice has gone. Which left me feeling rather vulnerable and exposed, confused as to why it actually mattered too me that much. Then a booze fueled emotional outburst and a night that still leaves me feeling sick to my stomach sent the signals off. The end of the distraction was the catalist of realisation… I’m still not back together again.
It took me weeks to work that out. I couldn’t work out why I seemed hurt when the reason for being would go against all the words that have come out of my mouth.
I wrote that paragraph at 8am this morning, those flood gates are now closed and i can’t seem to find words anymore. I have come back to this after a dreary day of normal, and it just seems easier to let it lie… I’m to tired to sort through the shit tonight.