remains of day

The winter blues have kicked in early this year. I need to sort my life out. Spent Halloween evening drunkenly sobbing on other drunk people. S says, I thought you wouldn’t stop, it was terrifying. We paced the marshy freezing field an sat on the Bench of Post-Pav Pain and Sorrow. I don’t remember exactly what I said to J, but I know that he would never ever bare his soul in such a manner. And this is the nth time I have sobbed into his shoulder. What did you cry about? asked H, who wasn’t there. I rack my brains and remember only things I would never in a million sober years tell anyone. H says it is probably like dreams, things that my subconscious wants rid of. (We have all been reading too much Freud.)

Saturday morning I woke up and wished I hadn’t. I still would quite like to find a hole to sink into for a while. My mother says it is most definitely genetic and that she did this frequently. ‘But life is on the whole magnificent!’ she chirps.

After we’ve sat for ten minutes pointedly not looking at each other, the boy tells me I must decide whether or not I make him happy. Oh no