I sort of wish no one ever read this. No one I know, I mean. Just people in faraway lands who would read and empathise and fix my life. But when I put links on Bebo and Facebook, what do I expect? I’m only friends with people I’m actually friends with on those sites so I don’t know who I expect to mysterious stumble across my blog on Google. Or else be possessed by some spirit who takes over their fingers and compels them to type the address in their browser. I don’t know. But whoever they are, I hope they fix my life.
How do I get myself into these situations? I must be very malleable. I must be. And, also, very stubborn. And oblivious. And everything else in the world that I really don’t want to be right now.
I want conversation. I’d give anything for a real life conversation right now. Anything to ward off and stall the descent of this proverbial cloud. Because it shouldn’t be here. Not this soon. It is crippling and I’m only just back on my feet. And I’m not even back on my feet yet. I’m lying when I say I am. I’m lying when I say I’m okay. I can’t be if I’m prone to writing like this every second day. Ughh, I’m too erratic. Fix me, someone.
Take me back to Dublin.
Wish #2: Take me back to Dublin and wrap me up in a big duvet in a big bed and make me a cup of tea and get in the bed with me and gimme a cuddle and watch a film with me and talk to me and let me have a little bit of a cry. Please.
I can’t deal with these weird fights. I don’t know how to be.
I have nothing to fill my night with. I will blog too much and regret it. Or else I will sit here twiddling my thumbs. Give me something viable to do, someone. Or someone to do. Ughh.