Wednesday, 13 July 2011

wasting away

I'm feeling very tired right now, like someone has pulled the strength out of me. It's part physical, part emotional. It's like things just aren't in rhythm right now. I don't deal well with change and that's undoubtedly part of it; especially when it's not just my change but his too, and everybody's. Part of me feels I just need a few days to bring it all back, some strength, some solid material to prop up the weary frame. When away we drove back home one evening and the hour journey took four and it's hard to deal with that but for no good reason at all. You feel as though you are losing your mind to the small things that typify the situation. I took my shoes off, put my feet out of the window as if to prove there still was air outside this vehicle that wasn't really moving, but that we couldn't get out of. That's the worst kind of traffic, where freedom is visible but unattainable. When I tried to put my shoes back on they wouldn't fit it was as if my feet had absorbed the liquid in the rest of my body and puffed up, leaving me scraped thin and coagulating on the seat. I hurt my thumbs trying to get the shoes on. I walked on top of them like a bad attempt in heels and I didn't even care though I should have. It rained as if to prove the mood. In the toilets someone had managed to get themselves all over the seat and I couldn't understand how people like this exist, that they can't replicate their personal hygeine standards outside the home. There was no toilet roll. I looked at myself in the mirror and it seemed like a younger, less secure me looking back and I hated her. Stuart was outside and I knew he would be and I told him all my woes and he knew what I needed because he is me. I told the car too but realised it was stupid because they no longer care for me like he does. It's changed and I'm only to be soothed if it fits their aged idea of family and that's okay. It was silent, I felt nauseaus. Counted down the miles on the sat nav and hoped that the end was near but it was just a keep right on the m6. It's okay, I'm just sitting still so how arduous can it be? When we got back the tightness was released but not much and we got to the car park. A woman in a car drove close, awkward and we waited, watching her actions in regards to our attempt to park. She pulled away and the small car clipped the kerb, bouncing off as she drove. We all laughed, in unison again. The car next door had a giant plush spotty dog in the back seat, larger than a human. We laughed the kinds of laughs that are tired and strained and hysterical, so close to tears that your not sure it was even a good thing. The other day my brother asked me if I remembered the time my Dad was angry at me for not being ready to go on holiday with him and I couldn't. He told me it was because we were to leave at 5 and I wasn't ready and he went ballistic at me, as was the trend back then. I didn't know what he was talking about and then a moment later the memory resurged with full colour, when the time told was half 5 and Dad confused it for 5, full anger at me sitting with half an hour of prep still to go when we were meant to be leaving. I hated those incidences because no-one was right and one person was wrong and no-one ever won. I'd blocked that memory out and the description didn't raise the vision of it at first but then it did and when it came it was full of the infamous, horrible glory of being out of those scences now. It's funny how we manage to block these events from our minds after they are gone, uncomfortable and awkward scences of self-hatred and division. But apparently the worst things stick the longest, so I guess it's just how well your brain can fool itself. Part of me wants my brain to fool this whole time right now, because though there are good things, the insecurity and volatility of life and of me is something I deign to hold on to.

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