I feel like I’m standing with my nose pressed up against the window hoping that I see myself and let me in. Only deep down I don’t think I do want to go in. When did life get so complicated?
I remember when my sister and I were about 8 and 10 respectively, she would ride her custard yellow bike and I my bubblegum pink Raleigh racer to the corner shop, our 50 pence pieces burning holes in our pockets (that’s a telling on how old I am if it was only 50 pence in my pocket) on our way to get 100 penny sweets (that’s right younger readers, you could get 2 x penny sweets for 1p)
My life now is a pressure cooker of angst, grief and shared inner turmoil. Uncertainty lurking like an aneurism silently waiting to unleash its destruction.
I don’t know what to do.
I’m standing at the window banging my fists and screaming warnings but no-one inside can hear me. I think I see me but, when I come to the window I draw the curtains and I’m left standing in the dark thinking, how did I not hear or see me? I walk round the entire building but there isn’t a door in sight, all I can see are windows where no-one in side knows I’m out here. Will I ever find the door? If I do, can I go in, do I want to go in?
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