Right, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted by life? It feels like it's been a long time since I was here, while it has only really been two days. So, that's no time at all. You mustn't think that I've got anything special to share either, because I don't. There's been no excitement here at all.
The only things I've got to report is that yesterday was Remembrance Day and today is Liberation Day, but neither of these days make hardly any impact on my life at all, except that I observed two minutes of silence yesterday evening while watching the memorial ceremony on television. That was my contribution to the activities.
You mustn't think that I don't care, because I do. It's just that there's been no opportunity for me to join in on any of the festivities that are organized around town. I've been keeping to myself and you certainly don't seek out company when you keep to yourself. It's part of my agoraphobia. It wouldn't be so bad if I had someone to go with me. Maybe I have a social phobia. I was awfully shy when I was a kid. I hide it behind a lot of bravery now, but the shyness comes seeping out all over the place. I'm not at all a brave person, really.
My favorite thing to do in the afternoon is to take a nap. I wait for my medicines to start working and go to bed where I lie listening to the radio until I drift off for a few hours. I think it's the best time of the day. Any time spent sleeping is. It's the safest activity I can think of. I wouldn't mind being asleep more often. Of course, you do get done sleeping at a certain point. You've just done enough of it and aren't tired anymore. That's the sad part of that.
I don't even like being awake in the middle of the night that much anymore. I'd rather be asleep, but I don't manage that yet. I was up last night and tried to write a post, but I wasn't able to do it. I wasn't in the right frame of mind and deleted everything I did try to write. They were all futile attempts. I don't think I have to be inspired every time I sit down to write. I think it's okay if sometimes nothing comes of it. I don't see it as a literary failure.
I said I was rudely interrupted by life, but of course I'm not at all. Life doesn't interrupt me in the least. The only movements that happen in my existence are the unexpected ebbs and flows that suddenly appear because of the fickleness of my moods. They interrupt me, life doesn't at all. Life is a smooth pond in which now and then a ripple appears. It is something completely different from what happens in my psyche.
I think I've written enough nonsense. It's time for me to walk the dog. He's sitting here looking longingly at me with his big brown eyes.
Have a good evening you all.