No-one writes about happy things

13/04/2017 § Leave a comment

Sunshine, bbqs, beer, friends. Pure joy and fun. Last weekend I rejected the long term for the joys of the short term. Chose hedonism over dedication. Ate, drank and laughed for hours.

Each month is better than the last. This year is an upwards slope of happiness, and is slipping by recklessly. January was tough, but it is nearly mid April?!

Sunday morning the text came and I’m calling landlines and mobiles and finally got through and then I’m lost. That gut drop feeling I’ve not felt in years. That deja vu. That limbo. That how the hell do I fix this.

I am a fixer upper, it is my first reaction to any bad news. Calm face and how-do-I-fix-this brain.

I read it on the news, and screenshotted it. God knows what for.

We are preparing for the worst in all kinds of ways. I can’t bear to think of some of the things he must be feeling and thinking so I don’t go beneath the obvious ones. Sadness. Worry. I stop there. Mum says he hasn’t eaten in three days and managed a couple of mouthfuls finally tonight.

He doesn’t want anyone to know. He cried at work yesterday, trying to sort finances. My heart breaks a little. There really is only one pure type of love, and it’s the unconditional one that roots deep into your bones.

That’s reciprocal with me and him. And it’s worth all the gold on earth

It’s just change, I want to say. You can do this.

I went on a date Monday night and he was exactly my type, such a lovely person. I didn’t tell him what I learnt the day before, you don’t dump that on people you’ve just met. I dreamt of our future marriage and love, I let myself spiral away in harmless daydreams.

We’ve hired my replacement at work and my gut says she won’t last, but what the fuck do I know.


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