Part 3…Chapter 24… Part 1… 2011…

I light 3 candles and burn a Nag Champa incense stick. Reach for a crystal tumbler, grab my poison and wipe the dust away to reveal its label before I twist the top to allow the genie in the bottle its escape. My oldest, longest best friend when I need one, the forever faithful Jack Daniels.
A large measure, and holding the glass in close I look down into its temptation. It’s funny when we know that what we are about to do will bring penalties to pay the next day, but to that we say, ‘FUK IT. I NEED TIME OUT OF THIS REALITY RIGHT NOW. NOT TOMORROW OR THE DAY AFTER, IT DIDN’T COME OUT TO PLAY YESTURDAY. IT’S COMING OUT TO PLAY TONIGHT’!!! AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!
 
The glass touched my lips. I closed my eyes and shot the lot down too quick to even give it time to coat the sides of my mouth, but gentle enough to feel its warm hello slide down my throat. Followed by another and another, and another, intoxicating my mind with, 'SO MUCH SHIT BECAUSE MY LIFE IS SHIT AND WHEN SHIT IS ALL YOU HAVE THEN SHIT IS ALL YOU FUKING THINK ABOUT'!!!

I sit here rubbing my finger and thumb over the pentagram I wear around my neck, with thoughts in candle light accompanied with the great Roman God Bacchus, drinking his merry wine (JD on this occasion). In my own ritual of madness, we are joined by Diana Goddess of the hunt, ruler of the moon, as the Hindu God Ganesh remover of obstacles attempts to have his say before Shiva butts in to destroy it all. The debate within me and the input from JD keeps taking my thoughts around and around on the never-ending hamster wheel...
Maybe, I will rise from the ashes like the phoenix or stay on the wheel like the hamster and just keep going around and around in this black hole of lost depression ...
 
I’m going to pour another shot and roll a tardy carpet of green… Me and JD are doing ok, me and my spelling not so, again I thank Microsoft for spell correction. I did start writing with Pen but had to abort and start on the old PC. My mind is working but my vision with pen and paper in candle light isn’t. I know, I could put the lights on, but I don’t want the fuking lights on. I’m liking the dancing shadows on the walls from the candle light. I put some sounds on and then turned them off because I’m liking the voices in my head and the shadows on the wall…
 
‘His’ heart is so small it pains me, and the meaning of friendship pains me more.
My She Devil is back within me under the stars, my body is airborne being rotated by the majestic, magnetic powers of the Gods that be. I’m finding my strength to hate from their dark side…
God, give my chariot wings now I’m stuck on this earth and bring on the fight with the White Angel.
Jesus our Father in Heaven can’t fix this now, not that he and his clang ever could, with me being Pagan an’ all. They just sit on the transparency of clouds watching us deplorable odious mortals fuk up our life…
 
I haven’t been able to hold my closest and most trusted friend Pen in my hand for many moons, give and take a phase. And on first try tonight I’m too pissed to hold it, loL.

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I trust, I forgive, I adapt, but I never forget. I just can’t. That’s the hold life has over me and everybody I guess in one guise or another. It’s a journey we embrace that drives us insane. The past four years have been hard to describe how life is always raising my expectations to then watch them tumble down again. It’s a test I’m fed up of re-taking, a test that is always concealing something, but a test I will challenge until I expel my last breath…
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I need to get out of this house. I want to run wild with the wolfs by my side to feel the freedom locked in my soul escape to find new ground, but I can’t.
I wish I could go back to sit on my bench at the top of Caswell woods. Watch the waves energy being chopped and tossed this way and that by the force of the wind from Mother Earth. While I join her by captivating a breath of her sweet salty sea breeze. My dog next to me as I puff me lungs good on a well merited Spliff.
But I can’t.
 
I wait night after night for a dream, but they never come they have long gone. The game is over now, and I really am on my own. I’m always sitting here looking for the answers one day at a time.
My heart wants to be free, but my mind gets in the way and the past won’t let go and He must know this. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen or heard from Him in over 18 months.
 
I never believed He wanted to marry me when I asked Him at Rookwood Hospital. I never believed that He was going to be with me to the end. I never believed He loved me months before the night always in question happened… But there we go. THINGS CAN ONLY GET BETTER, LOL…

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The past 12 months have been, shall I say, the best explosion of gossip people were rushing out to hear, with a beer in one hand and a fag in the other, anxious to know the life of the cripple they haven't been arsed to visit but instead got enough juicy info from her drunken Ex's behavior.
Too many so-called close friends haven't bothered to come and see me, reply to my messages and I say ‘messages’, as I sent more than I can remember. Neither were my phone calls answered or returned.
Nobody has been strong willed enough to come and knock my door to ask if I was OK, physically, emotionally, mentally. Now I feel they can all rot in hell as I pour hot liquid lava over their miserable little brains.
The number of friends that have stayed with me since He left comes to the grand total of four and that includes my daughter.  
 
This diary newsfeed is going to take a while, let’s hope my fingers have enough energy to type, my eye lids stay light enough to keep open and my mind doesn’t wonder off with Jack lol…

Two spliffs and a shot later I begin… and it goes a bit like this…

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