Unhappiness, a Christmas story

 




I've been feeling pretty down lately, worse than I have in a while. I couldn't shrug it off, couldn't put my finger on what the actual issue was... but something has been feeling wrong. Maybe just the holiday blues? Maybe I'm (definitely) feeling insecure? Maybe I should put this drink down...?

I've spent some time thinking of possible reasons... and for a girl with a good imagination that's probably not a great idea. Each option has become increasingly wilder and more plausible. Overthinking is the enemy.

And then today one little conversation made me realise what the issue is.

Doing nothing makes me unhappy!

To the core. By nature I'm a busy person. Don't get me wrong, I like the unusual chance of getting a lie in... but that's just it! I enjoy a lie in because it's unusual. If I stayed in bed every day until 10 followed by a day on the couch I think I'd go insane.

My mind needs structure and organisation... which is sorta considered odd for a creative person. But I thrive in structure (I mean, as a teen I applied to join the Royal Air Force...).

The holidays though... they make me feel obliged to spend time together doing nothing... And don't get me wrong, I love my family and friends... but being bored makes me unhappy. And doing nothing makes me bored. I may have to pull out another board game...

So this afternoon I decided to just fix the issue. I set aside some "me" time to sort out my life. I cleared up my dumping ground of a house, which I've been treating a bit like a hotel lately, literally just coming in to sleep and leaving again in the morning...

I put up some pictures in my home office (game room), because I hate jobs being put off for another time, it's not the type of person I want to be.

And I spent some time alone thinking about my priorities. I had a little cry, because life isn't always easy, but then nothing worthwhile is.




Sarah - the novel in progress - some of today's progress...

I miss her. Like a punch to the gut, her absence hits me hard and brings bile to my mouth. I am bile, a vile acrid substance that is best kept behind closed doors. An insidious mess with dark thoughts and a fucked up brain.

Give me a pill
                  Give me a pill
                                   Give me a pill
                                                    Give me a pill

To numb the pain.

Because I'm too vain to get over rejection. Because my heart hurts in ways that can't be normal. Because if life is two options:

                                         Open for love and the possibility of getting hurt
or

closed and alone with my bag of tricks...

                                                     Give me a pill.

Because I'd always choose her, despite myself, despite my fear, despite my wavering, despite my failings... I'd choose one small second of having her face pressed to mine as her breath warms my cold nose.




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