I don't feel the inspiration to write or draw, to be creative. I don't have the muse I need to use the beautiful words that make me smile.
I lie here awake till the early hours wondering what's next. Sometimes Dollydog digs up the pillow next to me and does that dog circle thing they do before they lay down to sleep. That amuses me for a while.
On a clear night I'll leave the blinds open and watch the stars pass by but that doesn't help. It's taken my a week to get this many sentences written.
When I started my blog under the name 28 year old single mum, I didnt think it would be read. It was just meant as an outlet for the things I tried to say but couldn't. A coping mechanism for my depression. 2 and a half years later and 34 thousand page views i couldn't be more pleased with the results.
I've had so much support from people I know and strangers who have stumbled across my rambling. Not only on the serious stuff like depression but on the fun self help guides and my travels in the world of tattooing.
I want to thank everyone for the kind things they have said. They may not know it but they have made a difference.
And now to my point. I've come to realise I need to write more. Because it helps. I am sincerely unhappy right now. Struggling with the introvert who wants to hide away and the extrovert that wants to shout from the rooftops.
I'm hiding away. My friends will vouch for that. I'm in my room with my books, art and candles. I don't want to come out. Getting out of bed seems more and more futile to me. This phone in my hand is the only real way I am having contact with the outside world.
I'm fighting back the tears almost constantly and I don't know why.
One thing I do know is I have the bestest friends in the world. I want them to thank them from the bottom of my heart and soul for caring, checking in and having silly pointless conversations that make me laugh so much.
Look how old my hands look.
