I have to say that I've hit a wall.
Its made of brick and I can't seem to make a dent in it.
I see my kid tomorrow but am terrified that I might sleep through the alarm so I bought a crappy back up wind up alarm clock at TESCO and keep looking at it to be sure it'll do what it's supposed to do.
Check the alarm.
Check the clock.
"Shit it's only 10"
No food in the house
No time it seems to be awake or asleep.
The ceiling is receding into the darkness no matter how hard I stare at it to see some sort of detail.
I've retreated into the realm of the clumsy high school metaphors.
It's all so angst ridden and yet, oh so poignant,
I'm more exhausted than I thought.
Problem is I can't sleep.
But I must. .
Otherwise I risk disappointing an 8 year old full of news of her new school waiting for me at her living room window.
It's one of those scenes that always grabs me by the scruff of the neck and tells me that deep inside I'm not as cynical as I believe myself to be.
My little golden haired girl waiting at the window .
How can work, or the debris of wherever I happen to be compete with that?
Somehow, when I'm not really paying attention it does.
More often than not.
I have to work on that though I don't really know how.
It feels like a struggle just to do my best and not feel guilty about everything sometimes.
I know none of this is a contest.The marathon will drone on and on without end.
Little dramas tend to lose their significance as the dots in the picture give you a pattern when you pan out.
The cliches are running thick and fast as this diatribe rolls on.
I told you I was tired.
She misses her daddy and I know that means something, though if I don't come through and keep up my end of the bargain, it's a crap yell in the dark on my part.
A victory of points scoring over my ex-wife rather than giving my kid what she needs.
I just don't fulfil my end as much as I want to sometimes.
The will is there, but the character is lacking .
Maybe that's the truth.
Or maybe I'm retreating into a bit of self indulgent, self pity.
Veteran visitors to this blog can be forgiven for being annoyed at this theme of self flagellation.
You've seen it before and it gets old after the umpteenth viewing.
It gets old in the telling.
Its time to force shut eyes to sleep.
Another automated ciggie smoked , half finished and bashed out untasted to join the rest of the collection piled up and stinking in a cheap coffee cup .
" Alone here in the kitchen,
I feel there's something missing
I 'd beg for some forgiveness,
but beggin's not my business
And she' won't write a letter.
although I'd always tell her,
And so it's my my assumption
I'm really UP THE JUNCTION"
Turn up the sound.
It used to be my theme song 6 or so years ago...............
God when I start posting music lyrics I really am tired........
Love to all.