Saturday, 30 January 2010

'still feels frigging sick'

I was candid, but I'm clearly not happy about it. It's not the only thing, but a thing, on this sad long Saturday night. I also want to go to the parties, but I'm not entirely sure I can keep food in, my muscles hurt, and my face shows these Things a million times over. You look lovely. Lovely is an excuse for the blunt. Perhaps.

They told me I glowed today, my skin was great and I looked peaceful, rested. I agreed, it was I am, I wondered if this was due to the abundance of rest, or the lack of work. I also wonder the significance of me wanting to cry tonight, after the first shift I worked in six days. Is that a coincidence. Or did the frustration go raw. I saw her again today, recognised her lips. You still in school, I accused, I'm so scared about what I'm going to do when it stops, she offered without apology. I looked inward for a moment, remembering a warm time when This Wasn't All That I Was Doing.

So I want to go to the parties, but I don't want to drink, the street proved I had no rhythm, I'm tired, I feel like I might be sick, I want to cry, and I want to watch a chemistry documentary. My dark side nags at removing oneself, an old trait I no longer choose, feeling scared by this. But I'm not choosing it tonight? I have real reasons for abdication? Why am I questioning myself? I don't know? An immaturity I don't quite trust.

If you never go to the parties you will never design yourself a character, never set and gel, never meet these people that will change you. But is this person tonight the one they should meet. No. There will be other parties, other gigs, and other eves not quite so melancholic. I don't know where it crept from. I pictured two tiles placed back ajar, out of dusty cobwebbed storage, smudged together with some grouting called London. The lines blurred, the sharp edges made smooth, a ravine filled and reimagined. Not entirely satisfied with this. It niggles like lactic acid in a muscle you can't touch.

There comes point where one must make a decision about something. I just looked up the point of no return. This is a physical point in itself, a decision can be more fluid and reactionary. But once made, the limbo is neutralised, things are no longer up in the air but prone on the ground. A quietness. I am not going to the parties. I am not happy about this. I am spending the rest of the evening watching a chemistry documentary and trying to keep my dinner down. I'm still not happy.

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