i want to sleep

for a long time. i may go back to bed. i have just walked to the shops round the corner from me and had to walk out again. i feel as though the cheerful mood i have exhibited for however long i have lived here has been fake all along and this is the real me. i have no smile anywhere.
i am feeling quite hateful today and normal noises of slurping tea and breathing are annoying me. as was the shop keeper speaking loudly over me in a foreign language as i left the shop without buying anything. i suppose it was nothing to do with me. or perhaps he was saying 'miserable bitch' in Pakistani who knows? the next shop keeper who i didn't recognise was better simply because i didn't recognise him. i need anonymity right now to rest my exhaustion in. but he didn't say a word. not anything. i didn't know if he was shy, indifferent or just terrible rude but not a word did he say. i suppose it was refreshing for me not to be friendly. sometimes i must exert to much effort on this. Emily Dickinson poem sprung into my mind while walking along the street to the shop on the main road- one of my sis's favourite poets.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us-don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.
How dreary to be a somebody!
How public, like frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!


    emily dickinson




yesterday i had a couple of arguments with people who are very close to me. imagine if i was never to see them again either? oh shit. i think it's best not to argue really. i was particularly chastised for not speaking up at the moment i felt irritated. and the argument then became a lesson for me. i actually take that on board and i think i will try to be more confrontational. although confrontational may be too strong a word for what i will be. maybe confrontation  is a more loving and honest action than being politely offended. perhaps that is less real. i would rather know a little more of what lies beneath the shell we wear. or perhaps it is just me who wears a shell.

what's awful is that dreadful thing 'you don't know what you got till it's gone' never did i think this applicable to a person in the way its become for me losing my sister. i never realised i would apply this to my strong, present, vital sister. i must have been living in fairy land. i mean i woke up this morning with the horrible plain fact that i and all of us thought we could make our sister better with love and that we could make her stay with our love for her. i for one thought i could protect her in some way. but death came and stole her away.
i suppose i feel just so sorry and bad that i couldn't promise that i would keep her safe from the jaws of death. and yet i pray with all my heart that death was not like that. not jaws; not stolen but something else.
emily dickinson keeps springing to mind

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality. (emily)

i don't know. i really don't.
i just remember sitting near my sister on her sofa and loving her so much and of her being a separate person whom i now know i had no ability to protect from the fate which has proven to be so cruel to us. but i can only hope that perhaps there is a happy ending somewhere.