The past week has all been about loss. First I took Mum to the airport, just after really connecting with her for the first time since I was a kid. Then I discovered Robyn was going away and I would have no chance to say goodbye, even though we were both in the same city for a few days. Then it was time to say farewell to Anastasia, who headed overseas for an indefinite period. Two days later I did my last radio show, and two days after that I discovered how little recourse I would have in attempting to get it back. Then, last night, at the end of a day when life had already been too hard, Martina pointed out a bunch of character faults that have undoubtedly cost me numerous friendships over the years. I guess it was good of her to do so, but she lacks an element of empathy at times, and that was one such time. It hurt, just as so much of the past week had hurt as well.
So I am bruised now. I am sore. I don’t want to have anything to do with anyone. I just want to curl up here in my room and keep the world at bay. I have no desire to play the games the world asks of me, to communicate with people who aren’t really interested. I want to be alone.
I know this is all happening for a reason. I understand that it is all undoubtedly for the best, but at this particular moment I don’t care for any of that. At this particular moment I just wish I wasn’t here. I wish I was someone else, somewhere else, and all the people I’ve ever known somehow didn’t exist. I could be a monk in a cave or a lion in a den. I don’t know, I only know that this is one life I don’t particularly care to be living right now. This is one life someone else can have, for there seems to be nothing left in it for me right now.