Today someone spewed their anger all over me.
I’ve cried a lot. I haven’t planted my plants. The postman didn’t come today. I wanted to apologise to him.
I have been writing. It’s supposed to be healing and cathartic, but I only wish today was over and I could go to bed.
The wind from the incoming storm is gathering strength. I can hear it growling and then dying, repeatedly. The harbour looks very rough.
There has been no more work on the houses that are meant to go up. I heard the name plate on the house of the garden where these teeny weeny postage stamp houses are going, has been pulled off and smashed on the ground. There’s a lot of anger about these plans.
So I haven’t achieved much in my car wreck of a day. I feel an utter failure as I’ve found no joy today, no gratitude and yet I’m not confined in a cell with no window.
It’s not lost on me that today is Valentines Day. I wonder if a certain man has given a card to the woman he left for me. Twice.
I don’t miss him anymore. I just want to stop thinking about him a few times each week. It’s wasted thinking.