I didn’t go to the annual village cricket match. Even though I knew it would be the last one I would have the chance to attend. One team lost two players over the past year.
I just didn’t have any desire to go. I’ve the memory of last year and the year before that. They’ll be little variation. I’ve lost the will to be even remotely interested.
That’s it. I’ve sat here for ten minutes without writing a fucking thing. I can’t think of anything I want to write at the moment. I think it’s because I’m bored so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fuck off and do something.
However, just before I do….. no, forget it, I was going to write something witty but I can’t.
Mars is the closest it’s been to the Earth since the Stone Age. I’ve been watching it in the night sky. It’s fantastic. It just looks like the biggest star in the sky. I feel quite alone in my admiration for all things space.
I wish other people would come out of their houses and look but the few people I’ve told just came out with the usual ‘oh, that’s nice’ in a false voice which tends to be translated as ‘ok, you’re a freak’. I’d like to stand on one of the volcanoes on Mars and look back at the Earth. I probably wouldn’t want to return.
The house feels empty. I’m on my own. No lover. No dogs. Nothing. It’s just temporary. I could do pretty 149
much anything and no-one would know. I cherish little bits of time truly on my own. I don’t mean that in a nasty way. Part of me is sad to be alone but the other half relishes the peace and quiet. I’ve no music on, I’ve not watched the television for two days, infact I’ve not really done much worthy of any merit. My head feels calm though. I feel like I’m hibernating.
On the other hand I miss someone sneaking into the room and wrapping their arms around me, shielding me from the outside world and telling me that they will love me forever.
If I write as an exercise, not because I’ve got something decent in mind but just so that I get used to writing on a more regular basis would that make me any better at doing it or not? Some theories tell you to force yourself to write even when you don’t want to.
That’s what I’ve done today and I think it’s all rubbish. Fucking awful. But I’m leaving it in. When I’ve finished all I have to say, I’ll re-read it and might take it out. Then again I might leave it in as an example of the waffley shitness.
I’ve just been standing outside the back door watching two sheep head-butt each other. Whilst chuckling to myself, I remembered there was no-one to tell. That led me to something. I justify my life as being valuable when I’m communicating with people. Or to put it another way, when I feel I am having an effect on another person’s life. When I am on my own, I don’t feel as if I am making a difference to anything.
Although it would only usually have been a fleeting thought, I wonder now if that’s half of my problem. I am too dependent on what difference I can make to things around me. When the answer is none, I feel a bit pointless. It’s back to the whole question of ‘why I 150
exist’. Do I exist for me or for others? And my answer seems to be for others. This is different to saying ‘I’m a good Samaritan’, it just means I want a reaction all the time, be it smiling at someone across a room or having a right good barney about something trivial with an adversary. I know I’m not phrasing this very well because I’m trying to write it down whilst I’m thinking it. Again, if I write it all down I may gain a better understanding of what I think I mean. Yes, I’m confusing myself. Ok, an example, being alone, watching a film, I feel like I’ve wasted two hours. I haven’t really done anything constructive. I feel it was a fruitless waste of time and feel guilty. However, if I’m watching the same film with someone, even if we hardly talk I feel at least I’ve entered into a sort of contract with another person, we’ve shared a moment in time together and they will probably remember the time we sat and watched a film. During that time we may have furthered our friendship by each others company. Going for a walk is the same, I enjoy it much more if I’m with the dogs because I see the pleasure they get from it, when I’m on my own I’m constantly thinking I should be doing the washing or the cleaning or something more beneficial. I can’t seem to let myself have time on my own without trying to fill it with justification. Why do I feel guilty for having a lie in, for spending an afternoon doing nothing other than reading an escapist book, for watching a truly crap but funny tv programme? And why do the feelings of guilt come only when I’m on my own? When I write it down it sounds so sad. I should really be pitied. Does it come back to my insecurity about being a ‘waste of space’ (that’s one of my common lines when I get PMT). I just don’t know. I don’t know if other people feel like this. I’ve never discussed it. Probably because I didn’t know how much truth was in it.
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