Berlin wall

One of the ironies of life; how one can be hated and still occupy such a large portion of the other person's brain, use up so much of their negative energy. Big egos are the worst: they never let go and never accept indifference.

Ah, yes, indifference. The most powerful weapon of all.

I hurt, laugh, feel and regret, I love and live. But I only hate the weather.

I chew the end of my pencil thoughtfully.

Rent.
Bills.
Broadband (God forbid that should be missing!)
TV licence (for the boys, as I never watch TV).
Car insurance, fuel and bills (Ouch! This one will be hefty)
Food shopping.
Contents insurance (why? I shall have nothing worth stealing apart from my laptop, but I could always sleep holding on to it...)
Council tax (so that I can bullied into putting the rubbish out in the appropriate coloured-bins and on the appropriate day; I shall never manage that).
Clothes (I am Italian after all)
Occasional presents/toys (I don't want the boys to think that life is all the worse for my decision to leave).
Contribution towards children's upbringing.
Speeding tickets (see car).

Have I forgotten anything else?

I have been offered an impossibly glamorous job with an impossibly low salary. That figures. And yet, I'd rather be paid peanuts and be in love with what I do than earn a fortune and work in a soul-destroying environment.

However, once I finish my list of outgoings, and have a look at my job offer, I worked out I'll be left with £2.99. Just as well my boys like MacDonald's chicken nuggets...

It seems that even my private posts offend people.

I am sorry if anybody feels I am deluded, sad or superficial. I do not like to be the object of 'derision', and I most certainly do not 'need help'.

Everybody should deal with pain in the only way they know. I am a basic creature. My soon-to-be ex-husband is a sophisticated individual who feels deeply and writes well. I had not read his blog for a while, and when I did I found comments there (apart from his own j'accuse) that made me want to fold my own blog and disappear.

I shan't. But perhaps I ought to stop writing for a while. I am not seeking attention; for me writing is a necessary part of my life and I can do so marking my posts 'only me'.

I do believe, however, that I have a few friends here, and it has been comforting to feel good enough about them to trust them with my words, deeds and thoughts.

I have removed myself from the friends' list of the particular blogger who feels so strongly about (or should I say against) me. Not out of spite, not at all. I just don't want to elicit that kind of reaction, and I am genuinely sorry to be so despised.

As for the other blogger... Well, she has conjured up such a personal crusade against me that whatever she may say now really does not matter.

I slammed the cyber-door. Again. Maybe I should open a school for 'budding primadonnas'. Complete with red curtains and kohl make-up.

I drove, and the steering wheel felt sticky under my hands, the brain hardly registering road signs and other cars. For once in my life, I was early. As I sat in the unknown carpark, I listened to my heart beating fast, and whispered to it trying to calm down.

It felt like minutes and yet it was hours. Talking and laughing, sharing and understanding. Moving on wavelengths long forgotten, breathing at the same pace.

Panic and joy. Comfort and excitement. My colours ran true and our words sang together.

Today I am happy.

I have been offered a job in my specialist field. Specialist, that is, before I had a husband and children. Seven years have passed, and I thought I'd been forgotten. I thought I had forgotten.

A job. And all I can do is cry.

I am too scared to lay my tarot.

Wish me luck and mean it. Please.

I shall allow myself a spot of naughtiness... A mature woman has accused me of it, over the last few months, and I was innocent. Before the end of this week, I shall be guilty.

Once you are blamed, you might as well indulge.

I used to think that burning without ever melting was a curse. Now I know it's the only way.

Tonight, my friends, I am finally free.

Free from all the pain.

Extinguished.

Tonight I feel I can finally shut the book whose pages have been flapping away too long, and love myself again. I am not the worst human being I know. In fact, I am rather proud of myself, because I have now got some terms of comparison.