There are so many things I can't say. I am almost exploding with the myriad fragments of an internal kakeidoscope... I have tried to write this entry half a dozen times, but I can't. Feelings of loyalty, embarrassment, despair, intensity and the whole undefined, continuousness of the situation make it impossible.
If I do what I am thinking of, it will hurt a number of people, and will remove any brownie points I may have accrued for living a virtuous life latterly . I am not sure if I'd want to be a pariah. In the last few years I have changed - blame the menopause, blame anything you like, but I think it's the aging process and the "if not now, when?" feeling that encompasses my writing - and so on.
I haven't really written much for a while because this internal rumpus is so loud that I can't really hear anything else. And I don't really want to write it here, and perhaps because it isn't quite ready to be written, and the half-digested thoughts that I'm having are not ready to be regurgitated. Oh, what a charming metaphor - .
If I do what I am thinking of, it will hurt a number of people, and will remove any brownie points I may have accrued for living a virtuous life latterly . I am not sure if I'd want to be a pariah. In the last few years I have changed - blame the menopause, blame anything you like, but I think it's the aging process and the "if not now, when?" feeling that encompasses my writing - and so on.
I haven't really written much for a while because this internal rumpus is so loud that I can't really hear anything else. And I don't really want to write it here, and perhaps because it isn't quite ready to be written, and the half-digested thoughts that I'm having are not ready to be regurgitated. Oh, what a charming metaphor - .
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