Dull

They start as dull niggling flashes at the back of the head, voices of different tones and pitches, rising, reaching a peak. That’s when you realise they’re behind the bedroom door, and that they’re real and that they are fighting voices.It’s five am and I lock the bedroom door from the inside, just in case. My new stinking home. It’s not just the dog’s piss. It’s the stench of failure. Of hopelessness. Of waiting for God. Of unconditional love that’s conditional. Of money that’s hard to earn and easy to spend. Of defeat. Of complacency. Most of all it’s the stench of mediocrity.

That was last night. This morning he said I was like a dead person. It’s not that I am incapable of love as I once thought, it is just that I find it, the reality of it, so utterly disappointing. It is always so much more attractive to live in the mind than have to deal with what is real and possible, and within reach. Therefore I choose dreams over reality. I always was quite good at amusing myself.

You are God's gift and I pray that you don't have to pay for my stupid mistakes.