volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- pointed pointlessness Bleugh. I feel really icky and yuck right now. I feel like I'm foul company, which sits really awkwardly with the fact that I'm desperately lonely, too. I don't know that I'm especially lonesome for some company now this minute, but I'm incredibly lonesome for some nice company to look forward to having. That doesn't make a huge deal of sense, now, does it? But you know what I mean, eh? No? Right then. I'm not suffering from a lack of good people in my life. Indeed, my dear best friend left only a few minutes ago, and we've spoken at least four times on the phone today as well. I'll be seeing some pleasant enough people at work tomorrow. My dear little boy hasn't long ago left for his nan's house. I have another nice friend who lives around the corner. i got an email this morning from my Kiwi friend in London. This is not the point. The point is that i'm feeling something which-superficially at least- is suspiciously like a big aching lack of Arthur. My heart is missing him badly. Meanwhile, back in Facts and Reality Land, my head is reminding me that it's not actually Arthur that I'm missing, but the essence of feeling like someone's special someone. Sorry, Head- doean't make it any easier at all. And what also doesn't help is the fact that I know that Arthur's coming here to my hometown on Saturday. the great dilemma thus arises: do I sit around looking permanently gorgeous just in case he pops in, or do I get the hell out of town and thereby avoid any painful occurences. OR, do I text him or call him and make a plan, or test the water a little? Crappity crap crap. I could do with some kind of distraction from all of this. I could do with some interest from somewhere. And I'm cross that i feel low and miserable and a bit irrational, because that means that now isn't the time when the good stuff is going to start happening. I hate the Process. I hate knowing the Process in so much gory detail that it all feels so bloody predictable. and I hate the fact that the Process has an uncanny habit of being predictably unpredictable, so that at any moment something quite unexpected could come along and bite me on the ass. Knowing my luck that'll happen at the point where I've got no makeup on and my hair needs washing. I've been feeling like this all week, which is why I never bothered updating, because it gets very boring and tedious, all this feeling maudlin and grotty. I'm trying very hard to stay active and busy and not lose hope, but really, the whole Pollyanna facade is starting to look and feel a little lacklustre right now. This time last year I was just about on the brink of feeling like I was the best person I'd ever been in my life at that point. Now I realise I've come a whole lot further. I'm growing and growing up and growing wiser, but I just can't make myself se ethe point, as it goes. I'm wading through existential porridge right now. My feet are dragging, and it's too sticky. And I've drunk too much coffee today which has left me feeling paranoid. I know it won't last forever, and I know it'll pass, and I know that the point will come where I see the point once more, but really, do I have to go through all this hite again? ...answers on a postcard, eh? 9:45 a.m. - 19.02.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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