A new look, charming. It contains elements of developent, and change, and those things I have found so difficult to deal with continue to haunt me. Ghost like, daemon like, as I have always found, shadows are more frightening than the knife in the hand of a mugger, or certain words in the emails of old friends.
And so, to tears. Crying a lot more, and easier, than before. On Sunday I walked into town trying to stop myself from bawling but it’s getting harder. Silly things trip me up, like visiting memories from so long ago they appear only as faded clips from albums, or a stage-set, with actors I cannot recognise. Love is the drug, and it shakes me more than cannabis. Indeed, I prefer weed to anything else at the moment and even with this I can be an embarrasment. Point and laugh at the guy who tried to find a romance with a new person at work, only to be shamed by a reply full of stoic diplomacy. Laugh at me, so I may cry easier.
And so, yeah, good times. It all makes a day at the footie with the lads all the more meaningful. Tonight, love, and sex, and romance, and feelings, swim around the air, visible to almost every friend and stranger I see, but the air around me hangs stagnant. It is all daft and it is all selfish, but self-centered feelings are not by their nature invalid. Of course I still have friends, and I will bounce back, but things get harder, and my tolerance for all the knocks gets thinner, and devalues, every moment.
This is good, then. I should go somewhere else now. Night falls and this Internet booth is not available all the time.