Sometimes it can be difficult to know what to write, especially when you are torn between that which you wish to write & that which you think you should be writing about, i.e, what people will read. But perhaps, in the same way in which you should dance like nobody's watching, you should write like nobody's reading.
So, I step forward into the honest light, in the hope that it will shine some clarity onto my current predicament.
Having spent seven months living independently, coming home is like falling into a bed of feathers. It's comforting, but it's also dangerous (suffocation anyone?). Being around mère instantly makes me fall into an inane sense of dependency upon her. I can't even help it! Unfortunately, due to this, I seem to be losing my sense of self.
Firstly, it was robbed by my incessant working life, having abandoned that, I am now handing it over for an easy life. I feel I may be going round in circles here!
So perhaps, once the Christmas coma, which I believe is due to be enforced, is finally over & done, it will finally be time to focus my erratic mind on going forward & realising what it is I actually do want to do with my life/house/wardrobe!
I would like to hope that once these details have finally been smoothed to a botox injected complexion, I may actually be able to once again turn my attention to the men shaped flames that I know still exist...somewhere! It would help if The Ex would bugger off dream stalking me! I do not need the confusion of falling asleep to your face, thank you very much!
[yawn] Now to get some (much needed) beauty sleep!
Bonne nuit!
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