I love coming home from work in the evenings. I love kicking my shoes off, putting on pyjamas, microwaving a kids’ meal, and spending quality time with my TV.
I look forward to it all day.
And yet, these are my crazy hours.
Because when everything else stops, the bit of my brain obsessed with the ex and my absolute terror re being alone forever wakes up.
And taunts me.
So every night I go to bed and find my pillow soaked from tears as I’m falling asleep. But when I wake up in the morning I don’t want to go to work at get all busy and distracted. I want to lie in my bed. It’s so comfy. Mmmm.
I go to work, and count the hours until I can go home and relax. Yet it’s not unusual for me to get home, put my key in the door, and start crying before I even get into the building.
I don’t have a point tonight or even a message.
I think I’m just a bit nuts.
But it’s been a hell of a nine months.
Aren’t I entitled to be crazy?
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