My my my..

It’s been an eventful fortnight or so. It’s been an awakening of something I thought I had put to bed several years ago, but it turns out that really, it’s impossible to rid yourself of this…thing…it’s forever lurking. It’s always waiting for circumstances to change, for you to drop your guard; for your spirits to fall, ever so slightly, so it can worm its way back into the forefront of your mind.

I’ve read some eloquent writing on this. You can call it darkness, depression, crazy or your own personal demon, whatever, everyone has their own name for it and I never knew that people could actually describe what was going on inside of me until I read a paragraph so perfect I cried with relief. I felt normal, I felt understood and was also filled with a sense of understanding. I won’t embarrass myself by giving the title, it’s so cliché and teenage angsty that I cringe just thinking of it.

Earlier this year I read a book called The Opposite House and I felt that same sense of relief.

Like every girl, I only need to look up and a little to the right of me to see the hysteria that belongs to me, the one that hangs on a hook like an empty jacket and flutters with disappointment that I cannot wear her all the time. I call her my hysteric, and this personal hysteric of mine is designer made (thought I’m not sure who made her), flattering and comfortable, attractive even, if you’re around people who like that sort of thing. She is not anyone, my hysteric; she is blank, electricity dancing around a filament, singing to kill. It’s not that there are two Majas; there is only one, but she can disappear into her own tension and may one day never come back.

My hysteric is running wild today.

As I was riding my bike home from the gym last night a car crashed into me. I realise now that I may have avoided this if my brain hadn’t been so busy composing a poem. What makes this whole situation worse is that after 4 hours in accident and emergency, some serious bruises and the rest of the week off work, I can’t remember the damn poem. So now I’m stuck at home, miserable, unable to move and I’ve got brain block. Talk about standing up for your art, I took a serious hit for mine.

To end on a more cheerful note, I’ll post this link:

I’m guest blogger and it’s one of the few things that I’m actually excited about…my hysteric seems to sapping up all my other energies.


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