I woke up this morning in the full consciousness that I might be about to lose my only real companion to jail.
And this has happened twice already, with Maurice and Ezra.
Third time lucky, you say? Hmm. I don’t believe in luck.
Emotions are strange things aren’t they? I mean here I am already feeling all the emotions that I WOULD feel, or, if you like, WILL feel. All because we humans are equipped with brains that think, that can project ahead of time. It’s almost a waste of time reasoning with myself and trying to talk myself out of feeling this way. At the end of the day, this situation awakens a rather serious trauma memory. Abandonment. The reasons for it carry little weight. If someone you love and need has to leave you for whatever reason won’t the hurt be pretty much the same?
It has me defaulting back to the Plan A that dogged my steps for so long. Suicide. Yes, this world could definitely be the death of me quite literally. Jumping off Beachy Head springs to mind. It’s supposed to be a difficult one to survive. Yet feeling virtually indestructible as I do, do I really want to tempt fate?
The desire to give up on life as it appears to have given up on me though…that remains.
I’m a fugitive, every bit as much as he is. I am seeking asylum not in my own country, but in my own life. Can they want to punish me AGAIN?
There’s a song by Morrissey called ‘Hated for Loving’. I should maybe post that as I haven’t the heart to write more. Powerlessness is not a good look, and very far from being ‘the new black’.