OK, think of something funny to say. Definitely go with funny, everyone likes funny. Come on, you can do funny. No one wants to read something miserable. They definitely don’t want to read this kind of mumbling nutty rambling. Funny is good. Nope? Nothing? Rats …
My mask isn’t working very well at the moment. Sometimes I’m not sure whether I wear a mask at all because I don’t think that there’s actually anything else behind it. The mask is my face now, it’s who society, life, family, culture, personality have carved me into. It’s meant to be there the whole time, there’s not meant to be anything else. I’m meant to keep it light and witty and entertain you all.
It’s not happening today. My spirits have lifted a little with the sunshine at the window but the fug is still there. I’m exhausted too. We’ve been living something of a mini rollercoaster the last few days, it’s a somewhat surreal experience when you’re totally numb.
There’s all the camping stuff to rehouse, all sorts of random homeless articles strewn about, the never-ending battle with the washing up – but all I want to do is hide under my duvet.
You’ve probably seen one of these artistes before, in pictures or on the telly at least. This is how I’m feeling, although naturally with none of the associated grace, poise and body shape. They roll themselves up in the swathes of fabric, I couldn’t find a picture of that. I imagine that for most folks that would be a cocooning, comforting sensation but to me it’s a feeling of being trapped.
I am wrapped in this oppressive swaddling and it binds me restrictively. It forces me into shapes and places, sometimes to conform with a mould but other times it’s a noose around my neck, a tripwire to my foot, a shackle to my wrist, a blindfold to my eyes. It is inescapable, it is never-ending. It is smothering. I don’t know how to release myself, it’s like something from a nightmare these ceaseless ribbons. I forget, it is a nightmare. But there is no waking.
I’ll go away again now and try of think of something better to share. I’ll come back my dry, sparkling self (that does rather sound like a bottle of wine) and entertain you all again.