Inexorable
I just can’t paper over the cracks anymore.We had thanksgiving again and once again it was a pleasurable and emotional affair with a bunch of strangers. I know many mock the Americans for their collective behaviour but these Americans are truly delightful people.
I had to talk about what have I found to be a “learning curve” this year. I, of course, talked about my job as I have done nothing else for the rest of the year, despite the fact that I have not alluded to this.
It amazed me that I have still a bit of passion for the place inside me....somewhere – I just don’t know if I shall find it again. I don’t know what I want anymore, or whom, if anyone, anything.
N cried when he talked about his business partner as an inspiration to him. I looked on, doleful. She is an inspiration to him and you can see why. She has this amiable and friendly nature that people just surrender to and very thoughtful and shrewd. As I watched him struggling to hold back the tears, all I could think of was “is that what you’ll cry like when I finally end this by moving out” and “why am I not your inspiration?”
I hated myself. I hate myself. I just want to be sick.
I am truly a nasty piece of work and I’m killing this pure innocent man and depriving him of the happy life he used to have before I came. I’m just prolonging this by staying here tinkering around with the bathroom and the family visits and the trips to B&Q – the veneer of an amicable separation cracking right before your very eyes.
As Scott said in a comment in a previous journal “its my problem, deal with it” I think I should. It’s not just me anymore. I’ve caused enough pain and suffering and I don’t want it any more.
Last night was a shit night out. Various invited people never turned up so it was the bare bones of me, my brother and sister and kirsty – my brothers ex. Between J&K arguing all night and my sister crying after being dumped within half an hour of rekindling a rship, I was muchos in demand. In a kind of blessing in disguise, I didn’t drink much as I had to care for people. But by the end of the night, I didn’t care. They all went home before I was ready to leave, so I went back with a friend and starting downing shots. I staggered in at about 5am and slept in the study in northampton.
And the bizarre thing is that I sat in someones dining room at 3pm the same day. I didn’t know who he was other than that he was a mortgage advisor whose partner had died recently and was discussing the intimate financial details of a man I met only two weeks ago. I sat there, slightly worse for wear after too many shots, not enough sleep, in stinking messy clothes, completely smitten and occasionally glancing at the clock as not to be late for the impending thanksgiving gathering.
This is bad. This is very bad.
I see flashes of my future – where I’ll live, who I will live with, the job I have, the family I have. I want to live all of these lives at once, with all of these people and have all these careers. These flashing images spin around in my head like some kind of absurd gameshow. All of these flashing images intertwine into some indecipherable mess. I don’t want to be on this programme any more
I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I’m amoral, I’m ill, I’m tired, I’m lost
I have a crushing pain in my chest and my brain has this fog. Happiness and Sadness, Anger and Delight, Pain and Beauty are all one and the same.
This mess is my life and I don’t want it anymore.
Last modified: Tuesday, February 17th, 2026 at 9:52am
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