Since I'm finding it so difficult to blog at the moment (in fact, to do any kind of writing) I may as well attempt to write about not being able to write.
- I'm doing okay. My friend's trial (the weirdest school reunion imaginable) brought up some very unpleasant childhood memories, but it's all for the good.
- The words "I wish I'd never been born" are less true than they have ever been. (I just haven't stopped saying them.) I might get used to this place, y'know...
- That dead badger I was complaining about? I don't think it really was a badger. I think I just ate something that disagreed with me. Like... a bath towel. And I didn't chew it properly.
- Everything happened when I was thirteen. I don't mean literally everything, not things like the moon landings or Princess Diana, or Richard Curtis making a good film. But it was a time of teenage weirdness.
- And I had nobody I could talk to about it.
- I'm ready to talk now.
- I'm not really ready to talk, not yet.
3 comments:
I'll kick you until you talk. I'll do my good-cop/bad-cop routine.
Talking to yourself is good, if you're not ready to speak the words yet. Blogging, too. Take care of yourself, dear Gordie.
There's such a thing as being 'really ready' to talk 'stuff' that one's never been allowed/empowered/felt 'okay' about talking about?
Sometimes we just need to forge on to do it anyway, yaknow?
Scary as that might seem.
*shrugs*
But what do I know.
<-- barely knows what's good for her very rare occasions
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