I have wondered this before, and wondered it again this morning as the mist swirled and twirled about me, playing hide-and-go-seek with the trees along the river. Does The Weatherman change the weather according to my state of mind? While I realise it is a preposterous thought that the entire City Beneath the Mountain's weather is dependent on li'l ol' Shiny's mood, but it's just, well, very coincidental.
I have a lot on my mind, and it's twirling and swirling and storming and pouring and blowing about, this way and that, directionless. One minute I feel okay, the next I feel like it's all too much and I'm fucking it up and I'm getting fucked up. Excuse my sailor-like language, but I can find nothing better to describe this. My mother would be horrified.
I keep reassuring myself that this is just life, and that I can do this. I can get over the hurdles (even if I have to do that at a crawl, using my teeth and nails), that the good bits of life WAY outnumber the crap bits. And they do, I know they do. Just sometimes, it all seems so difficult.
And it's at those times that I really question stuff and my frustration feels insurmountable. All I want to do is walk along a deserted beach, salty wind and the frothy crashing of waves my only companions. A dip into the effervescence, a little body-surfing, allowing the bubbles to kiss every part of my skin and the ocean vapours to infuse my lungs, washing away those swirling mind mists, clearing the air. Being the real me.
But I can't. And it breaks my heart.
World Penguin Day
23 hours ago