Day 7

I smoked a little today. First time in a long time. Last remembered was in the North, when I went with Daddy. I had a good time then. Stoning is such a mind fuck. My heart was pounding, so I had to remind myself to breath. And everything had nuance.

I have a lot of anxiety, I realise.

That a child sitting on a tire staring out the gate is a communicating with a stranger who is just out of my eye’s sight. That a 4 year is manipulative. That a girl with a job should have a chip on her shoulder. That I am looked down upon. That a boy far away from me has grown tired of me. Outside of the anxiety, burst forth these flashes of enthusiasm; as a result of one such burst, I shall be selling lemons from our tree with an 11 year old. These piercing thoughts, that appear to be revelations.

Stoning is such a mind fuck. To be used with caution.

I felt the clouds come over me the minute I took that first pull. Instant alertness. I had to distract myself with painting. I thought my dog would attack me. I wonder why I think that my protector wants to harm me. I realised that I must run the Windhoek City Marathon in July. No matter how many days I don’t spend in training. It must me done. I will run when the mood strikes me. Morning, afternoon or evening or not at all. But will run more than I don’t.

I’m writing a short story for a workshop. 200 words is such a small sample. I’ll publish it on my blog, the minute I send it to the workshop organizers.

and there’s the matter of horse manure to purchase… and that box of worms too.

I hope this is the path I should be taking.

Chelsea won the championship. Arsenal came 5th.


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