Dear Sir or Madam,
why must our brains be like this? Why must existence be so painful at times, and so wonderful at others? Could we perhaps find a happy balance, a chummy harmony to dance the days through?
I’m feeling a little of the black dog yapping at my heels rn, spending a little more time covering up the tracks of my increasing typos and my too-rashly-spoken retorts, creaking out of bed rather than leaping, and it’s not age or misery it simply seems to be a little of the dreaded Christmas fatigue. The exhaustion of loving too many too much, giving utterly and then folding quietly under a duvet of bad cracker gifts and sprout farts.
Lots of people feel a little flat at this time of year, and though normally I don’t, it does seem that this year is a jubilee year and so here I am, tired and emotional and dragging a dark little cloud along behind me like a goat with its foot stuck in a war memorial.
Pffffhhhhh. Can’t be doing with it. Far too much bother. But we will get through it; it’s not the identity of our lives but simply the chapter in which things get tough for the hero/heroine/protagonist. So let’s look after ourselves, ok? Yup. Only thing we can do really, have a rest, have a break. Switch off, tune out, go on a 1-person walkie and speak our woes to the air, to the jinn that float besides us in these little backward-eddied moments in the streams of ourselves.
Also, has anyone seen the new Matrix film? It looks amaaaazing!
Have a gif.
