Thinking too much, drinking too much. Not for the first time, when I don't have work to distract me. I'm still trying to write, in tandem, two stories, taking a break yesterday to produce the 'stream of consciousness' - or probably more accurately, remembered stream of consciousness, as I had the thoughts in the morning, but didn't write it down until the evening - thing that's appeared in Nephelokokkygia. It didn't have the cathartic effect I crave, though - after spending much of yesterday meandering amongst a sea of cute ghosts, then writing about a wonderful boy I was lucky enough to get to know properly, I still ended up feeling nothing but contempt for myself, not for anything I've done, but for what I want. And overusing the palliative that is alcohol in an unsuccessful attempt to bludgeon my demons into submission. What will today hold? More of the same, I suspect.
1630 edit: And drowning in unattainable beauty, too - earlier this afternoon, I saw the most delightful boy, waiting at the same bus stop as me, 12-ish, tallish, fair-haired, pale pink lips, the upper with a very pronounced bow shape, so kissable. Two buses approached the stop, mine and another. Needless to say, he caught the other. Another heart-melting, totally out of reach 'ghost', drifting into my life for two or three minutes, then gone forever.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
1630 edit: And drowning in unattainable beauty, too - earlier this afternoon, I saw the most delightful boy, waiting at the same bus stop as me, 12-ish, tallish, fair-haired, pale pink lips, the upper with a very pronounced bow shape, so kissable. Two buses approached the stop, mine and another. Needless to say, he caught the other. Another heart-melting, totally out of reach 'ghost', drifting into my life for two or three minutes, then gone forever.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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