Black flowers blossom...

When the black is this all encompassing and so constant you sometimes wonder to yourself if it is worth talking about anymore. I’m sure that certain people and certain friends are bored of it by now and probably fed up with hearing about my black. Lately I have learned who I can and can’t off-load on. I always imagine some have this mind set of whenever I see them or want to talk to them of, ‘Oh great, here he comes with his black cloud bring down everyone attitude. Change the record will you?!’ Do they? I dunno. I’ve asked one or two this and they’ve been nice enough to say, ‘Don’t be so bloody silly’. But sometimes I wonder if I should keep it quiet. I know I’ve bored myself with this so naturally it’s bound to have bored those closest to me. Such as they are right now because I think it’s a pretty small circle. But maybe it’s better if it is, less damage control with regards to this illness right now.

I had a dream the other morning, firstly about various dead and rotting animals, which was odd and kinda disturbing and then a dream which featured my former. When I awoke for a second or so I thought it had been real and then reality seeped in around me and oh yeh, bugger, I dreamt it. In it I tried to talk to her and she responded a little. It seemed as if she’d been trying to avoid me and when I saw her she looked upset and surprised. The usual came out, why weren’t you talking to me? Why the avoidance? To which she replied I hear you’ve been doing fine and I said so have you from what I’ve heard and she smiled at this. This came from me hearing she’d been out clubbing and my mind putting 2 and 2 together and coming up with whatever it wants. But to me it was something, a reaching out it was better than what I’ve had so far which has been nowt. As sad as it sounds dreams are my only way of contacting her. Sad I know but what else can I do? My mind is struggling and I’m struggling. The ability to cope is dissolving and has been for a while. What’s left isn’t much, just a patchwork of joined up nerves odds, ends and biscuit crumbs.

I was reflecting on something said to me last week when I’d told them I’d stopped writing (not this obviously, fiction writing) and I’d explained too many set backs had robbed my initial enthusiasm. Her reply has stuck with me because she replied thusly,  ‘How many slaps in the face can you take before you say stop?’  You see, for all the bravado and simple uplifting style slogans from movie and song the fact remains there is only so much a person can take before it’s too much to bear anymore. This doesn’t have to be creative scribblings it could be anything in life, trying to make it as an actor, sports person, stand up, artist, whatever. After a while and I’m talking years here not a few weeks or months, you wonder to yourself if it’ll ever happen. Perhaps the odds of winning the lottery are higher and would cause far less mental distress.

Song of the day: Teardrop