or the End of the Affair
Like the end of a party, the hollow deflated feeling, like what I imagine post wedding or postpartum blues, the expectation the anticipation and then its gone and it wasn't ever going to be enough. Even though there's the future lovelyness, the immediate is gone.
I need my books, I need to be able to read again for enjoyment and not because I have to, because when I read I'm gone, and the world can come in instead. The remains of the day can comfort me. The remains of the day, I always loved that phrase, how dusk is the sweetest moment, filled with memories of your day's happiness.
I shall knit myself my own stripy jumper and be proud of it and use it like a pillow cover when it wears out, like I've used other jumpers to help lull me to sleep. The stripy one was the best.
You don't know what you've got till it's gone eh? Pity not everyone learns that sooner rather than later. We should be born with such wisdom, the angels should never haven stolen that from us before birth.
I'm worried I'm slipping into some sort of depression, Rob has moaned that I'm never happy any more, and to be fair I don't think I have been for some time. There has been very little that has made me smile and far more to make me cry and for the life of me I cannot think of a good reason. Except for the shoddiest timing ever to befall me.
There is nothing wrong with me. How I wish there was in a way, because then there would be a reason for feeling like this. I'm relatively healthy, not overweight by much, pretty enough, intelligent enough, sucessful enough and by all rights I should be beaming.
I can't beam. Without you in my arms
I feel so bad, because I can't give Rob reasons why I'm sad.