Loyal readers won’t have failed to notice that I don’t have so much to say for myself anymore. This may be for a few reasons.
Reason the first. I read someone else’s blog. It was very profound. It was about a real struggle. Heartfelt. Genuine. Not deflecting from uncomfortable truths. It’s everything I can’t be. (The only thing I’ve written this year with any emotional maturity or honesty is about a subject too heart rending to goof about on here. I’ll put up a link if it ever gets published.) Everything I can’t be. Everything I know I’ll never be.
Reason the second. Too many awful things happen and sometimes my career-issue black humour disappears. How many ethical nightmares does it take to burn out a heart? I don’t know how many times a day I wash my hands but I wonder if I scrub my heart clean as often. Every time someone leaves or dies and I just gel and move on, what happens? Does it dry out, just like my hands? Or leave the same red raw, bleeding painful skin?
Reason the third. I don’t have much time to myself anymore. I’m being systematically socialised. No more ferral afternoons on the internet, writing to you loyal readers.
FreinPs for visiting one: +1
- Karma: +16
- FRP: -66.4
- Relationships: +6
- Family: +9
- Friends: +16 [Supplementary PPs: +2]
- Career: +10
- Fitness: +22
- General: -3
- Hospitality: +3