I am a bit drained at this second, Jake phoned for his weekly check on my and his calls are getting longer, the longer he is not working. I love the guy but it really is just to much right now. I am managing to put on that gloss, the I’m OK cover, but it is getting harder and harder. Despite everything I am still trying hard to show myself as well and on the ball, but I’m not. I suppose when you have spent so many years acting it out to everyone, showing the true me, the one that feels like hell, isn’t easy. I have done this for so long that I suppose those around me don’t see the difference it as an act, they just see it as me. Why do we play these stupid games in life?
I have always wondered why we play games at all, we don’t seem to be able to get through life without being ourselves. I can’t remember starting any friendship, or job, or relationship totally as me, there is always that bit of gloss, or that bit of you that you hide on purpose, until we are really sure if it is safe to show. The hardest thing to do for anyone seems to be just being who they are at heart, and not who they want others to see. I have had a rule though out my adult life that I don’t have secrets about myself, and I don’t tell lies, but why is it suddenly alright for me to sit and smile, have a laugh with others and inside be feeling like hell, just wanting to be lying in my bed. I tell myself it’s not a lie, that there is no purpose served by being totally open and to just turn round and say I can’t cope with even these simple things.
Last night I didn’t even manage to stay up long enough to see Eastenders, which until this second, I had forgotten about, something to watch before my nap. I just slipped away at 8pm and crashed with ease into sleep, without a second thought about it. I started yesterday to work on a system that will hopefully cut the work angle and feeling of working down to a smaller length of time each day. Which I actually did a few weeks ago, when I removes one blog completely, yet some how the time it takes now to do what I do, has risen to fill the same time slot. That’s the way my mad life seems to be at the minute, everything is taking longer and longer to do. It is as thought I am going into slow motion. I can’t seem to get things done in one motion, typing this should only take about 30mins, it’s taken over an hour already. I can’t think clearly from the start of something to the end of it, if that makes sense. Everything is totally stop, start. Nothing is happening smoothly, or logically. Not even sentences flow any longer, they are an effort and stinted, disjointed and written in bits longer than a few words.
Maybe tomorrow I will find myself again, maybe I will wake up and stay awake, and maybe I won’t have to act to anyone, including myself.