a bit hinesy

A conversation they once had

I hate the need for companionship. I don't get the human race.

This love stuff is a pain in the ass.

Love is always in bloom honey. That's the real problem.

But I'm not a bee, can't be buzzing around love all the time. It's tiring.

WINTER!

...feelings will only truly die when you find love with another. That's how it works.

urghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

What am I meant to do until then. I don't want to eat my feelings. Get drunk and have a series of headaches?

I need to do this healthily.

Chew my arm? Re-vamp my wardrobe? Surround myself with company?

Why is being a frustrated person the only consistent thing in my life.

Bahh. Bridget Jones.
--

I slept around until I found love. Worked for me. Might not for you. Might though...
--

Ghost.

He has some work, he makes a coffee. Warm the milk, coffee then hot water.

He walks back to his desk and places the mug on the electric warming coaster he has plugged into the socket.

He leans back, research in hand and a sniff of the nose. Sometimes there is cake.

He sips, he reads. It's simple comforts after all.

Note for today, note for tomorrow

Shin splint getting better

Here's looking at you

and I come across this on my street. A mirror.

That nice heavy smiley face feeling. After work drinks.

Anyways...you come home after a shaky ride on the tube and remind yourself that nothing really matters.

Tube sock

Today there was a single black sock on the tube platform as I got out at Moorgate station.

Thought you all might like to know.

Trying

Because ironically, depression is not a solipsistic disease; it is not a self-inflicted gunshot but, rather, a bomb detonated in the middle of a family function or, in my case, a very quiet explosion as I read my second set of vows, as I wondered if it was happening again, as I knew everyone in the room was about to be wiped out by my disease — they just didn’t know it at the time...

Post-major-depression trauma resulting in chronic a-holery. I’m certain I’ve discovered a new wrinkle to the treatment of depression. Because after the storm subsides, after the wolves slink away sated and ready for sleep, after the antidepressants circulate in my blood, blunting the blows, it’s a challenge to look outward again, to remember that it isn’t all about you, to again understand the connection between all people. But I try. I try.