No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Sunday, 24 March 2013


I'm aware I haven't posted on here in a good while.  It's been a very bad start to the year.  The last 1/3/6/15 months, depending on where you want to start counting from have been particularly vicious to me, and I know they've been just as bad or worse on a lot of others too.  A lot of the people that I would normally turn to in instances like this are barely holding it together themselves.

I have a lot of stuff I want to write about, it would just either take too long, or I'm honestly not sure how to put it down into words, they just wont come out, not because I don't have the vocabulary to express it, I'm just not sure they're feelings and sentiments that can be expressed in written or spoken form.  Like linguistic translation, the nuance and specific meaning of what I'd be trying to get across would be lost in the act of communicating it between people.

Maybe I'll get round to it eventually and take a stab at it, maybe I won't.  I'm still here.  And when I can work out what to write about, I'll put something down.  I just don't know when that will be.

When I have time I guess.  Time is not forthcoming at any point in my life for the next 3 months that I can see...  In the meantime, have a block of solid text about something that's been in my head today:

Someone made me laugh the other day - they said things were bad but at least they hadn't packed their 'running away' bag yet.  I laughed because I have the same thing.  There's a specific bag that's under my bed.  It's the bag that comes out when I need to bolt, for whatever reason.  When I was younger, at various points my relationship with my parents was strained (whose wasn't), and I got into a certain habit - my shoes, keys and a jacket would always be near the door or together in my room, my wallet would always be in my jacket pocket, and my mobile phone once I got one, was almost always on my person.  I was always ready to bolt straight out the door if needed.  And this continues to this day.  My phone, wallet, shoes, jacket and keys are almost always kept in the same place, either in my room or near the front door, all more or less next to each other (or in a line that means I can grab each in turn), and ready to go.  And as I grew older, and was living in places of my own choosing, this also grew into a bag.  Technically I have 3 of them, but some double up for other purposes.  One bag is for getting away for a few days, when I just need to run and hide somewhere.  One bag lasts me about a week, it's the bag I take when I go back to my parents or am on holiday etc.  And one bag, the bag that I can run and never look back with, the bag that's designed not for hiding, but for just simply running, fits about a month's worth of clothing in it, it can keep all the basic toiletries, electronics, and items of supreme sentimental importance that I refuse to let go of in it; everything needed to pick up the absolute basic essentials of my life and I can take it anywhere with me.  I don't keep this bag packed.  I can pack it in under 15 minutes if I have to.  And recently I've wanted to dig that bag out from under my bed so much.  As I say, I'm not looking to run and hide, I want to run and never come back and forget everything that I am.  And whilst it's not a good reflection of either of our mental states, it is in its own warped and twisted way, comforting to know that someone else has this same bizzare secret ritual.

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