Tuesday 10 August 1999

Fuck it all

A parting. Sad. My emotions are held too deep for me to feel anything strongly. I would very much like to be an openly emotional person - but I have spent so much time holding things in - afraid someone will laugh at something I hold dear. I don't know where I'm going with this - my head hurts and I can't concentrate. I will lose contact through apathy. It has happened before and will happen again. Thirteen minute delay - the hoard of city salespeople are annoyed. They obviously don't use this line much. I am tired. I can't remember what I have written. Announcements hurt my tender head. Whirr of passing train. I really want to be home. I just want to collapse into my bed and sleep forever - back onto early shift tomorrow - will probably get to sleep for about six hours. They are making announcements almost constantly - the sales types are smoking like chimneys, comparing sales figures and making very lame jokes. Apparently the guy next to me doesn't like dogs - I do. I need music - but don't want to wear the headphones in case they crack my skull. I wonder what these guys sell... It's probably something lame like double glazing. What does it matter? I guess thinking about them stops my introverted monologue from getting too depressing - doesn't stop it from getting boring though... Well the idea was to write whatever I am thinking. Does this mornings reticence break the spirit of this journal? If I have found one thing I am not willing to write then I am bound to be able to find something else. A very depressing music selection - Icon by Paradise Lost. Depressing both because of the music itself and the memories... Time spent alone at university - going for days at a time without speaking to anyone. A dark time. Were there ever any light times? Memories of primary school are mainly good, but the darkness was apparent even then. Reduced to tears in the first few days by a teacher who thought I was stupid because I had messy handwriting. This is all becoming about boring episodes from my past. What of today? Is my life really that boring that there is nothing to write about? What happened today? Got in at midday for a meeting - I was due in at one - the meeting didn't happen until one anyway. In meetings constantly until about six thirty. Caught up with my emails (or attempted to anyway) managed to tidy up and add some error checking to my scripts needed for my current project. By nine my head was throbbing, so I left a little early and stood on the station platform for a while hoping that the cool air would help. It didn't. Had a conversation that I couldn't concentrate on in the train. To be honest I didn't want to concentrate on it - the day was over, and I was keen to let it die. Now we are up to where I started this entry. Hardly a stunningly productive day. I don't seem to have had many of those in the past couple of weeks. I like my job, but it becomes harder and harder to say why. Meetings are eating more and more of my time. An uphill downward spiral. I like who I am, but sometimes wish I was someone else, someone who isn't lonely. I have said that I hate myself before - that isn't quite true. I just hate being me. I hate my apathy - I can accept on an intellectual level that I need to get up and do something, but I can't actually get up off of my arse.