creak. September again and the wave of tiredness returns. feeling low and unusually agoraphobic even though there is evening sunshine.
the piles of events sit solidly in my head and threaten me with their return at any given moment.
even reading Eckhart Tolle can't stop the flow of these events from pouring though a hole in my consciousness like a spring from a mountain, the leak makes the hole grow bigger and the spring, in fact muddy waters, creates a stagnant lagoon from which I can't escape.
old and needy she wants a shower and waits for me to call. i can't call i have no will to drive that far to help her shower. small and sad he might wait for me to call to do fun things. i cannot call, i can't be fun.
depressed and over worked he comes home after a long day and shouts that it's a dump in here.
days later after a few weeks of relentless events and injustices i hit a sudden hole in the road and down i go, too tired to pick myself up or speak.
