Saw Yerma at the cinema (about infertility) and was, for a night, totally traumatised. Then saw The Shape of Water and my faith in humanity (and my love of fairy tales) was slightly restored.
These days, I think I’m more confused than depressed. Sure, the pit is still hovering in the middle distance, but that vortex of darkness is gone. However, the brain fog continues, making me permanently anxious that I’ve left something terribly important unfinished/undone.
Admittedly, sometimes I’m sick with loneliness but I also sometimes find myself savouring the feeling of ‘aloneness’ (paradox anyone?). I remember I used to wish that relationships would end so I could mourn it extravagantly and write stories about heartbreak. Perhaps I never quite outgrew that frame of mind?
Other non-news....work is going semi-fine….rejoined the gym and made it there three mornings in a row (with a little help from ‘best friend’)…again finding myself giving tutorials to unresponsive kids…just like I did in the very distant past…reading Blood Beneath the Skin, a biography of Alexander McQueen, and finding it an increasingly painful read as the tragedy quotient keeps upping itself chapter after chapter…waiting for Lunar New Year holidays….
life is settling into a routine (a little to my surprise). I might not be happy, but at least things are semi-sane. And for this I am grateful.