A Self Portrait...

30 December 2014

Stress!

No, not about you go away. I don't know why but its become habit whenever something upsets me I rush to write it down almost as though writing it somehow either cleanses or allows me to wallow who knows perhaps its both.

Maybe because change is inevitable where there was closeness any change must be distance. All I know is something happened, almost a nothing, but it upset me and so here I am whining about it. You see what it is may in one sense appear unimportant to me but in reality its a manifestation of something much deeper confirmation of something I didn't want to see or admit to myself.

Its a kind of writing blind or more accurately reading blind but unlike so much that tears me up inside this is honestly nothing like that. Its a recognition and because its recognised its an ending.

Oh, alright! I know I'm full of anxiety, regret, anger, disbelief and impotence but I'm honest enough to know I can't go back to the way it was. In effect what that means is I won't see them I'm not even sure I still like them I do know its not their fault, but I'm me and instinctively where I don't trust I don't go.

Anyone looking at the last five years would see the truth of ignoring that instinctive lack of trust, the extension into others is perhaps natural may even be a perfectly normal part of aging but it doesn't feel like it. It hurts I don't think I'll see much of them when/if I get home.

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