This is the typical time of day I write.
When it's quiet and I can think clearly. And my mind won't rest, it'll just think about the same damn negative things.
Night time. Darkness peeking through the tiny space in my curtains. The time I would be better off sleeping... but don't.
That's writing time. I'm often up late - late for me anyway - scribbling away in that little golden book of
mine. By day, it's kept in my handbag. By night, it sits bedside. On top of my record player. With a pencil close by for late night thoughts & musings. When I'm tired, it's worse. Things pop into my head and if I don't write it down immediately, I pretty much forget it.
These little things are important to me. It's important, no matter how irrelevant, strange or useless these midnight thoughts are, that I write them down. I write for the sake of writing and remembering.
So I can look back on them.
Nearly everyone in my family has some form of cough or cold or illness, right now.
And I'm sitting here having a battle with my stomach not because they've passed it onto me, but because of my own fault. It's somewhere in between comfort eating & bordem eating. It's not either. But a bit of both.
Something that's entirely down to me. It comes and goes. like everything concerning food & me.
We have a tough relationship. But we're getting there.
I'm kind of hoping not to get sick as I'm planning on getting on a train, before this month disappears completely, for an unplanned-half planned adventure.
Sometimes you just have to do things you once secretly, quietly promised yourself.
And that is what's going to happen.
I'm going somewhere familiar. Somewhere I didn't think I'd go back to after all the bad memories it holds.
But it now holds special somethings and reasons I want to go back for.
And you know, I don't mention sh!t until it's done or set in stone.
So you better believe, I will report back.