It began light-heartedly enough, in my head initially, then talking to my daughter earlier on. Bantering about the fact that in spite of yesterday's Budget, allegedly knocking a penny off of the price of a pint, the price of mine in 'work-town' Wetherspoons had gone up by ten pence since I was last in there on Sunday, and the fact that the first day of spring had brought a weather forecast that suggests that we're going to have a shedload of snow over the weekend.
The conversation with my daughter was the high point of my day, though, and the 'some mistake' meme has arrived back at base with me this evening. I've got back here feeling decidedly under the weather again, coughing like the proverbial trooper, feeling (and looking) old, and, once more, finding it hard to justify carrying on at all. Because it's all been a fiasco, from start to finish. Born, apparently, with a sexuality that is completely unrequitable, trying to do the 'right thing' instead, but only succeeding in fucking up three lives, ending up with this empty, pointless existence. If I go to sleep tonight and never wake up, the world wouldn't be the poorer by a jot. And neither would I.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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