In the space of two weeks, I have: – Been to see a gynaecologist due to weird MRI results, and told everything is fine, that they can give me a hysteroscopy if I want (just a camera check-up thing) but I said if it’s not totes necessary, don’t bother
the fog contains all the bad thoughts, all the worst possible outcomes, all the harshest parts of reality and descends familiar lands turned foreign even time is warped – the turn of the day barely signalled. the fog isn’t malleable you can’t make anything out of it except things that are beautiful in an ugly…
It’s all mad. Absolutely fucking mad. I did okay through Christmas, until about 30th December, in anticipation of this appointment with the gynaecologist due to the MRI I had. Spent that evening curled up with my boyfriend crying, and the days leading up to yesterday weren’t much better. Anxious, freaking out. Distracted. Wednesday night my…
Home alone, feeling reflective or otherwise emotionally riled for no real reason, and in possession of a lot of Jack Daniels. Four bottles, in fact. Obviously I’m only going to have like two glasses; it’s just interesting that I have so much in the house at the moment. Good to know it’s there, I guess…
I visit my uncle whose nose has been partly cut away to remove some of the skin cancer, who can only eat through a feeding tube, who has lost all his weight, who has developed an infection and a bloodied, sore face, whose wife feeds him and gives him his morphine and antibiotics, who has…
Remembering a dream: There was a tugging, a feeling of belonging, a sense of comfort and safety.
I had a dream you were with me. we were holding hands and people were saying that’s not what friends do but they were wrong. because an unnamed personal disaster had befallen me and I just needed someone who knew that to be present enough to touch my skin to hold my hand like it’s…
tubes in places they shouldn’t be there have been floods here burst pipes, now there’s a clear plastic tube coming out of the plughole sticking out of the sink trailing out of the door droplets floating down the tubes drips drips drips from the ceiling tubes in places they shouldn’t be there has been blood…
Words have not been forthcoming. Telling the truth is hard. Makes me think of my blog award from last year. What an honour to get an award just for telling the truth. Lots of truth. It sounds simple but that doesn’t make it easy.