Disclaimer

Though a "Diary" my online diary is a work of FICTION.

It may at times strongly reflect actual events of my life, often how I honestly perceived them and display my genuine reactions. But not always and everything contained within should be treated as a fiction.

This is also a personal diary, so by reading it you are violating my privacy. And as it is a personal diary you are not allowed to hold anything you read in it against me, as you shouldn't have been reading it anyway.

Also, this diary is not to be read by anyone who has gone out with me, would like to go out with me in the future, or suspects I may like to go out with them.






Click Here for the old site, as backed up by Wayback Machine (I have gone with the 2007 version as it is the latest that is still before vodafone crunched a bunch of my files)

Sunday, 12 June 2022

Not winning

 I have left my house only once in the last fortnight, and that was to post mail.  But somehow I still have sniffles.

I have been hiding from COVID but also hiding from people.

My depression has been kicking my arse.

I know this because of the random crying.

I could pretend,

Lie to myself,

That it is just the lack of people.

A feedback loop -

The lack of people putting me off people,

The pandemic

Is an excuse.

How did this accidentally turn in to very bad poetry.  It started as entirely prose attempt at articulating my whinge.

I think this is why this blog died on its old host, I get depressed and I stop thinking it would be useful to have a record to look back on.

And with how shit my memory has been since I got sick, time just vanishes.  Life becoming smoke, dispersed.

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