So I am back in Essex. Blah.
I’m still fighting depression and really, truly, I still hate Christmas. I cannot wait for the fucking thing to be over.
I am so cold; it is so cold here, and the house has no central heating so I am freezing in or outside of the house.
I am getting so sick of living out of suitcases. I hate the confusion it engenders.
So I’m back in the sticks. My life is much the same. I cannot report anything wonderful, because not much along those lines has happened in recent weeks.
I find myself fighting tears all the time. Too often. I am relentlessly lonely and I can’t seem to stop thinking about YMK, who I fear is lost to me.
More than that, I just need a job I can survive on, because I can’t take much more of this. My mother is just waiting, waiting for me to call her and say, “Can you send me a ticket to come ‘home’?”
I am still trying to keep my spirits up, but it’s been so hard. I feel so isolated. Even in a crowd, with people, friends, family whatever, I feel disconnected and on the periphery, because I am not living. I am not even sure I’m surviving right now.
Despondency is threatens to get the better of me.