Looks like another sleepless night ahead. Staring out of the window at the empty road; wanting to drive into the night and off who knows where?
Driving away from what is within me and which cannot be escaped.
Recently, I found a lot of writing I did about 10 years ago when I was first diagnosed as depressive. I wrote a lot then but now I find it increasingly difficult to place my deeper thoughts on paper. Perhaps that's because they haven't changed? Perhaps it's because I have given up trying to justify the causes. Perhaps I have just given up?
I wrote this. I don't remember why; maybe it was a therapeutic exercise (you'll have to imagine the cynically wry smile at this point. Even then, I knew I was a lost cause):
My Favourite Things
People are one of my favourite things.Perhaps because, at times, I feel so apart from them whilst, at others, they affect my life so radically. They continually challenge and excite.
Ever-changing, I love to see the unintentional humour of a situation, the tenderness in a mother's eye, the poignancy of a lover's kiss, the beetle-browed bluster of Mr Always Right, the wisdom of advancing years and the subtle interactions of a million lives and moods.
Driving away from what is within me and which cannot be escaped.
Recently, I found a lot of writing I did about 10 years ago when I was first diagnosed as depressive. I wrote a lot then but now I find it increasingly difficult to place my deeper thoughts on paper. Perhaps that's because they haven't changed? Perhaps it's because I have given up trying to justify the causes. Perhaps I have just given up?
I wrote this. I don't remember why; maybe it was a therapeutic exercise (you'll have to imagine the cynically wry smile at this point. Even then, I knew I was a lost cause):
My Favourite Things
People are one of my favourite things.Perhaps because, at times, I feel so apart from them whilst, at others, they affect my life so radically. They continually challenge and excite.
Ever-changing, I love to see the unintentional humour of a situation, the tenderness in a mother's eye, the poignancy of a lover's kiss, the beetle-browed bluster of Mr Always Right, the wisdom of advancing years and the subtle interactions of a million lives and moods.
I love the unpredictability of people - each one so special, so unique. I love to hear their laughter, I feel for their pain, I long for their acceptance.
Without people, I would be forever searching for someone. With people, I am forever searching for something.
People give me love, they allow me to live, to grow and maybe, one day, to understand.
I know now I will never understand as I don't even know what I am seeking.
It's all questions with no answers, riddles without solutions and a future without substance.
Still, on the bright side, as I sit here and look out to the harbour, there's no sign of any Somalian pirates on the cross-channel ferry. Every cloud......and all that!
I really don't want to face another night of wakefulness. I dozed for literally 5 minutes earlier this evening and that seemed to be enough to recharge my batteries. The same happened last night and I eventually got to sleep at 7am. Having said that, I quite like the tranquility of night-time; maybe I ought to get dressed, go to Asda and develop a social life? Better still, maybe I ought to get a job that involves nights? Vampire? Owl catcher? How about switchboard operator at Insomniacs Anonymous? Presumably you answer the phone by saying "Hello, Insomniacs Anonymous, I can't say to whom you're speaking, how can I help you?".
What about people who have an addiction for craving fame? You can hardly have a Fame-Cravers Anonymous, can you? Defeats the whole object. Mind you, there is a wealth of TV programmes to cater for all of them.
Can't even watch live cricket tonight. Let's have a look what's on Sky:
Ooh I tell a lie, it's Australia v New Zealand or better still, there's live American Football until 4.30! Bengals versus the Steelers.
Right, that'll do me. Night, all you normal people - Vaya con Dios.
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2 comments:
Morning Bertles. I went through a phase in my life (I was really rather poorly at the time) where I seemed to be awake all night, and then have a little sleep in the daytime, when other people were 'doing' life. It was quite surreal, and I had to actively work on getting my sleep patterns back to 'normal'. (I think Balders had a similar experience didn't he?)
Can I ask ... when you used to "write a lot", did you physically write on paper, or was it all done on a keyboard? I just wondered whether that's the difference? Whether it would be worth trying to write with a pen and paper, to see if it reconnected you to your muse?
I hope you managed to get some sleep eventually.
Take care :-) x
Never mind Bertie - it's another little 'phase'. Winter makes us SAD. I watch reruns in the night, and only manage about 1 hour in teeny bits. I am now quite good at sign language!
So 2 fingers to the long dark nights eh!
Plausey :-)
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