Jack

Dear Blog,

I am about to begin another melancholy drone, and have realised that you have become one of those friends one only speaks to on matters of self deprecation. I do apologise, however, I shall continue on my miserly tone until the next time we speak.

Faithfully,

Orchid

I feel awful.

I tried calling my Mother today, and realised that despite feeling lonely, I don't really want to speak to anybody right now. Every word I hear from somebody I know makes me want to cry out for freedom from the damn conversation, and yet I want to curl up into familiar arms, and stay there for a while. I feel incompetent, inadequate, ignorant, and a failure.

Jack of all trades, and master of none; I don't know how I'm going to be able to do anything with myself. I don't have the time (or currently even the patience) to see my friends; nor am I going to be a marvel within the things taking up my time right now.

Listless, in a word.

Orchid

Church

What a week.

God, I hate that phrase, but really, what a week.

It has been carefully composed of some unforgettable days, with unforgettable people; forgivable days, with certainly forgettable people, and of course, the Sabbath, a day for no work (broken), and quiet reflection on the crap that you don't have to think about on weekdays.

My mind is fairly insane right now- it's a week since I got back from Ghana, with so much that we did, achieved, so much to tell, to write- and all I can think of is who I am.

Who I am.

Who I am??

Who cares? I thought I hardly did, and the thought of soul-searching somewhat disgusts me, but here I am, thinking about what 'everybody else must think of me' and how 'I'm a poor excuse for a human being, especially more so for a woman'; and worrying, eyebrows curved permanently into a distant seagull, of 'what should become of me' in the future.

And this isn't the anxiety of a day, one that can be blown away forever by the good words of a friend, or a song I've been missing. It's one that waxes and wanes- given enough time to ponder- and I don't know how to fix.

In similar news, here are some being-back-again vows:

I shall take up pilates.

I shall take a photo of myself everytime I cry. I cry far too much for my own good, and bizarre as it may be, I think recording every occasion on which I do cry will help me stop... crying is often very self-indulgent, and maybe I can embarrass myself into becoming less melodramatic.

Last thing- I shall begin to use the word 'I' less often.

It's a rather poor excuse for the subject of a sentence.

Orchid.