Even the crows mock me

'everything is full of you,
everything is wrong' -- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

I wake this morning light headed and fuzzy to find myself contorted and misshapen on my shoulder, a position that has created a dull ache that will trickle steadily down my righthand side throughout the day. Passing a mirror on the stairs I notice my eyes are dark and sunken, swollen rings surrounding them. I drink a pint glass of tepid tap water and stumble into my clothes. Later as I attempt to write in a library, two friends complicate their mundanity in a bid to alleviate the repetition of a life drifting them by. Repeatedly one says to the other 'at the end of the day yeh-'. Repeatedly the other replies 'I'm not being funny right, but-'. I wish to inform her that I and the rest of the world realise she is making no attempt at humour. She continues. The constant restating of assertions is setting me on edge. As they overly dramatise and tragically romanticise their simple lives of little lies I recall something a monk once said to me, 'we get annoyed most by those who most remind us of ourselves'. I am stuck in my world of Dawson's Creek love, forever questioning the unquestionable, gaining interest when and if a love appears doomed, then seeking out the unavailable. I'd give up but it's too much effort. It is four post the meridian and the shadows of my day are growing longer. I am on the tube now, trying to catch a few moments sleep by pushing my face up against the glass. I listen to rich succulent words, a deep resonant voice that restores and fills me with pieces, lucidly I realise I have fallen asleep. I see her in my footsteps, and try to move on.

n.b. I would like to point out that the above post can be considered ironic, I have cleverly blown my slight melancholy out of all proportion to show the pomposity and absurdity caused by too much self-analysis and cod-philosophy. In reality I have breath, I have food, I have a roof, everything is a-ok. Like all of us I have good days and bad days, swings of polarity often without good reason. I find it hard to believe just how dependent our emotional stability is on our fragile shell of a body, a bad cheese sandwich sometimes the one and only cause of a deep depth of despondent despair. It is strange how life seems so much more interesting in the dark times. For now though, I just want you to know that I am fine, I am happy, I am ok. I will try and write more positively in the future. I just miss her is all.