Punch

I’m seriously a F**ed up individual. I broke my leg some time ago and am bored to death and left to my dark thoughts. Now I can’t keep busy like I use to and I will have to deal with this for a while, I’ll be seriously slowed down for another couple of months. I can’t run with my dog, ride horses or kick box.

Every morning as I lay in bed I think how lonely I am, I’d consider just for less than 60 seconds some recent attempt of my parents to stick me into a pre-arranged marriage. I’d think of some creepy men who’d recently approached me, I’d remember my ex. Then I’d remember my dead friends, something we did together, how I heard the bad news. Then I’d tell myself to bloody get over it because it’s been years. I’d remember some people with much more miserable lives, tell myself how lucky I have it and what a drama queen I can be. So I shut up, get out of bed, grab a book or watch TV and pretend to be cool and self sufficient.

The other day I applied for a new job, I browsed the web about the job and the boss. I’ve never met the boss and I developed a crush based on his search results! Just today I snapped at a friend and I remembered when I was a kid in England’s cruel public schools. I would see red most of the time. One time a teacher asked me what’s wrong, I said they’re laughing at me. She replied, word by word “so laugh WITH them!”

I wish ...

Until the murderer of one of my friends confessed on television a long time ago, I use to scare myself, scared that one day I’d go postal. But he looked pathetic and I felt sorry for the dirt bag. I didn’t want him to be executed. That is always comforting and a great relief.

So I can’t run, ride or punch. Here’s another blog post.