I'd love to stay here and be normal.

All the time that slips through your fingers sits here with me where it can malinger
Within two and a half hands and a face without eyes
Time stands still, where it usually flies. *

Every day I do a million things wrong. Without meaning to, without having to, without wanting to. My life is a viscious circle at the moment, and I'm not sure whether I'm helpless or whether I'm just not trying. What's the difference anyway?

I watched "My Summer of Love" on Friday. Terrifying, mesmerising, delicate. Pretty damn awesome. Very real.

And then there was Saturday. Played the cello until my fingers were red and raw, and then saw Roshni. Talked and laughed and ate and talked some more.

In March I have to do three concerts, I'm not ready for any of them.
In May I have to do fifteen exams. Not ready for them, either.
All I'm ready to do is curl up, sleep, eat, dream. Die, regret, mourn, worry, waste and churn. Ebb and flow and fade. Bite and sow and collapse. Watch. Feel. Hurt.

I'm constantly letting down so many people. Strangers and friends.

And then there's myself.
And then there's me.
x

*Copyright 'Broken Clock' by Reid