Seems to me that true suffering is only excused in the artist, the writer , the musician but not in the ordinary person. Today was agonising. No excuses for finding it so. It hurt. It hurts still.
And since noone reads this, I shall write some of the crazier things I think to myself in this severe isolation. I was told just before he died that the heart disease I had been told for 15 years that I had, didn’t exist at all and that my heart was strong and healthy. Seems to me he took that burden on himself.
I don’t mind Evenings. I like ti when the world goes to bed and I don’t have to go out at all. I like it when its dark and everything is done. I shall go out there in the Cold and lock Alfie up for the Night. I think the Moon is near full and the sky clear. My Mini-Me is down South in an AFrame camp. Down there its truly freezing and Nimmitabel is under snow.God I am angry now. SO angry. I wanted to DO things. And we did. And now – its hard.
I need to get this Grief to begin to walk beside me now and get off my back. The Incubus effect is grinding me down. I think that having a major illness plus a terminal illness complicate things somewhat and extend and twist the Sorrowing.
Time then for me to back some of it out the Door in the way that Flo taught me way back to do with the Madness. Come walk beside me, my Bleak Friend but ride no longer upon my shoulders. I begin to stumble.
Well – I just went outside and its beautiful Its savagely chilled with an iced moon. Not one sound other than the ocean. I would like to go down to the Lagoon because I like the depths of still dark water – but I am timid still.
I am also in the loneliness that comes from the alteration of self. I am not who I was one year ago – and that leaves me without the old familiar comforts of the relationships I had then. Because I am altered. I don’t laugh in the same places. I don’t cry in the same places. I don’t think in the same way.
I react differently and I act differently. And its left me with different people and relating in different ways. And I am lonely within that.
I left Urunga once before when I was as angry and savage as this. Left so that I didn’t hurt the people I lived with the flak of whatever was happening to me – and I feel like that now. Detached and wild.
Because I seem to be fractured. I don’t know when or whether I am hungry or thirsty, I don’t have a time clock for sleeping. Some days I grasp at what day ikt actually is and what needs doing.
This what I read today on Facebook.
I DID THIS DRAWING YEARS BACK AND I AM THINKING THAT IF I AM TO SURVIVE NOW, AND THAT’S UP FOR GRABS MOST DAYS, I AM THINKING THAT I MIGHT DO WELL TO GET OUTSIDE AND PAINT OR DRAW.
Bed soon. I shall come through this as greatly altered as I have been by other things. And it will be good. Just that the passage through is a little traumatic. Bed now, Child.