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Sunday, 20 October 2013

NIGHTS SUCK BY FIONA CUMMINGS


Well here I am again. Up during the night. I went to bed before midnight. Could not relax. Listened to some of my book on my kindle. Got myself into a bit of a state over the story line. Felt the breaze from the window, I like to leave open at nights; it was as though the spirit of the night were blowing on me. Trying to annoy me, and yet if I close the window, I get a head ache and after the one I had yesterday, I would suffer the constant blowing of the autonomous night.

Then the start of my chest getting tighter and breathing more shallowly. My heart started to pound more and almost jumping out of my skin. The silence of the house bored me. My head filled until it was overflown with thoughts of black, bruising badness. Clues, ideas an yet no one to share my conceptualization with. No box to put them in so spewing out of control, I scattered my thoughts and slipped on my robe and came to the comfort of my keyboard. My lovely friend I call Laptop.

I’m not sure of the time, as every form of timepiece I own, talks so loudly. In fear of waking the house from its state of wrest, I just make a guess at the time and would say about 2.am.

I did eat my cheese toasty. It was surprisingly tasty. I didn’t get the chance to have nightmares with the cheese. It has been over a week since I enjoyed food as I just have no apatite when my Husband is away. Whilst I fear the sound of my own voice I’m troubled by the amount of time my Husband spends away from home. It’s his job. We have a mortgage and a debt which needs paying for. This is what I get told and my conscience tells me. A yet I am alive though also dying as existence is just not good enough.

What is money right now, a lovely house in which I’m totally grateful to, no stress in how we are going to pay bills, but to be solo in life is not a game I like to play.

I married the love of my life, and yet I am forbidden from living with him more than two to three nights at a time. Some would say, including my Husband, for this I should be grateful. At least we are together. But when it comes to not getting excited for his home coming anymore, because I don’t want to build myself up for the pain to follow, I wonder how one should be so grateful!

When my Husband returns from his trips, he is simply exhausted and who can blame him. An yet he is a work a holic, rummaging through the garbage of the intellectual world I don’t belong, for one more bottle of acknowledgement of appreciation the acceptance of a brain in which is rare and much needed for organisations out there.

 In my head tonight/this morning, is the fact that Hubs suitcase has broken, a slight relief on my behalf, as the battered old thing has needed replacing for some time now, but my Husband is frugal for items which are for him. Totally generous towards others, but for him, rather mean.

Now, where to get a suitcase from in one day, that one day he is working until five tonight. Answer, there’s always Amazon, but what we will end up with, God knows and for sure he won’t be going out shopping for one. I know if I really needed to buy one from a shop, my friend Flexi, would come to our rescue, but I have to keep favours for when I am totally desperate and a suitcase which is  an accomplishment in the story of removing someone I love, I shall not be participating.

So another night of sleep deprivation. But I’m sure I join a lot of you out there.

In short, nights suck!

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