Write

I move my cursor to the top right of my screen…”write“, it says. I click on it as it’s too enticing not to.

It’s Sunday and for the first time in months, I haven’t got any work to do. It’s weird. I love my job. I am writer. It sounds so lovely to say even lovelier to say out loud. I work seven days a week. I told myself today would be all about reading poetry and relaxing, but in all honesty—I am so fucking bored.

I did read poetry, dark poetry—Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. Her poetry is so simple, like anyone could have written it. But at the same time, it has an effect on me. Her words don’t need to be deciphered, twisted, and analysed like the long and strange poetry we were forced to read in high school. They’re straightforward, and true. Perhaps that is why they have an effect on me… that and her brave account of how badly men have treated her.

I’m home in South Africa for now, and I have almost no stress at all. It’s weird. I sit beside the ocean and write. I hear the stillness of the night, I breathe fresh air, I feel the sun on my skin. I feel reality. It’s now my business to know what everyone is getting up to in their lives—and while I couldn’t really care, it’s sometimes nice.

These are my thoughts as the day—and week—come to a close.

Have a happy week, everyone.

x

Crippled.

I felt weird last night. It happened around 5:30pm and it felt as though I was high or out of it. I went home and had no energy to do small tasks. I got in bed around 7 o’ clock and felt completely out of it throughout the night, too. I woke up feeling OK but down. I went to work and as soon as I got there, it was as if I was about to implode or have a panic attack. The office made me feel claustrophobic like the people, movement and walls were just overwhelming me. I moved to a quiet place and breathed deep and fast. I was waiting for a massive panic attack but it didn’t come, only something that felt like a mini attack. I cried a little and felt embarrassed that my co worker had seen me so vulnerable. I’ve never had a panic attack or feelings of that nature in public (for that I am grateful), but today – it was as if this disease hindered my ability to work and participate in every day life. It was crippling. I didn’t want to go home, I wanted to feel OK and carry on with my work. I couldn’t be there a second longer, though. I went home early. I feel ashamed and angry at myself about this. I feel flat now.