Since you’ve been gone, sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself.
Old habits die hard. (No – this is not another sequel to that famous Bruce Willis franchise. Although, I CAN actually picture myself in a torn vest, crawling through an air conditioning system in an attempt to subvert my own inadequacies… but already I am digressing….). I’ll start again. Old habits die hard. Especially when you don’t want them to die at all. Especially when you actually loved them, thank you very much. Especially when they brought more joy to your day than a Friday feeling, a huge bar of chocolate and an England rugby win combined.
It’s hard for my head to convince my heart that everything’s going be OK, or even, for that matter, the other way around. In fact, no one’s convincing anyone of anything. It’s like trying to catch the breeze in your hand, or finding the end of the rainbow (which, incidentally, I heard the other day was actually impossible, because rainbows are actually circular, but we only ever see the ‘top arch’ of them. I know. It blows your mind, doesn’t it). I can’t do it.
So I try to put my mind (such as it is) to other things. And for a little while, it kind of works. I keep busy. I get jobs done. I interact with my immediate world. But there’s like an invisible string – or more accurately, piece of elastic – that keeps bringing me back to the same place. And the familiar ache of loss and longing washes over me once more.
They say that nostalgia’s not what it used to be, but I don’t know about that, because it’s alive and kicking down here in Loserville.
Ah well. I guess the only thing to do is to keep moving. The end of the rainbow might not exist, but it must still be possible to get ‘over’ the rainbow, and I should never give up hope of cutting the invisible ties, and finding my way forward.