The pressure is creeping back, pushing in to my chest and head. I wonder if I'm welcoming the familiar feeling, enjoying it in a perverse way. It seems such a ridiculous thing to imagine but maybe there is a grain of truth, better the devil you know and all that. Being happy seems like hard work or maybe I'm making it hard for myself. As previously discussed I don't believe I deserve it, check me out retreading old ground though I have to because I still haven't found the answer. Funnily enough the more avenues I close the further I feel from finding the truth, trial and error is clearly not working and I feel like a stuck record.
I should really concentrate on the good things in my life the few friends and family who will always be there to put up with my foolishness. Seriously self deprecation is an art and I've been practising for a good decade at least, defense/coping mechanism I know but is it any worse than pretending to be confident or happy, I'm not fooling myself.
Sorry this all sounds disjointed just freestyling as it were.
It's been one week since I drank, not a great achievement just a fact. I've been reading a lot and have about seven books on the go at the same time that goes to show the state of my concentration levels.
I haven't seen my best friend in about ten days and the longer I go with out contact the more my mind plays tricks on me, that's optimism right there (as opposed to the possible truth she doesn't care), we don't have the sort of relationship where we call each other every five minutes but when I see her it feels intense all the same. I miss her and I worry about the pressure I put on her to sustain me despite reassurances that it's all good.
Blood, when you hear the sirens coming
~
Better run when you hear the sirens coming
They epitomise the irrational fears that plague my being. along with the pneumatic drills and the cries from Big Issue sellers they make me wanna hide or go deaf or scream in to my pillow.
Sometimes I feel like we've reached those dystopian societies they talk about in all those books I've been reading and I wish for simpler times so far gone I can barely remember them.
In that song Five Years by Bowie I always think of Bigg market in Newcastle. I don't know why, I've only been there once. It was for my stag do a few years ago (can't remember which as all the years are blending in to the mulch that is my memory) the market square was where everybody congregated after clubbing to buy hot dogs or catch taxis. I only really see it through a haze of alcohol. I didn't drink a lot but was very nervous and a rash developed which entirely covered the backs of my legs from ankle to groin I was vivid red (took a photo but wifey destroyed it for reasons known only to her). I enjoyed my stag do more than I thought I would and I regret not letting the boys have there fun, They all dived in to my room at god knows what time and covered my face in black marker and tried to give me an enema with a fire extinguisher, they wanted to strip me and send me down in the lift to the lobby but I managed to escape and emptied a fire extinguisher over one of my mates. I had to sleep in the bath because my mattress was soaked as was the carpet, I don't think they'll let us back anytime soon.
I wasn't nervous the day I got married, I suppose I should've taken that as a sign it would all come crashing down. Nerves are natural and I think they mean things are right.
I made an admission the other day, it went the way I thought it would but that didn't stop me fretting for weeks over something so trivial. I had a dream/daydream (was 'tween sleeping and waking at the time which made it all the more surreal) where I kissed my friend at work, I sat upright in a cold sweat thinking no no way. She's attractive but I don't see her that way or anyone else for that matter (which has been cause for concern on it's own). She understood and we're still all good but I'm still curious as to where the thought even came from.
I read a book about dogging the other day and the protagonist came up with an interesting philosophy about being post ambitious and in some respects I like it and see myself in the same position just on a lower scale (he was in a high powered job and left to work in the civil service). I don't feel the need for lots of money or prestigious job titles, I feel past it and the more I accept that the more content I become. so who knows maybe this is the way forward, bar the dogging obviously.
