How Long?

Sunday Funday. Not exactly. 

Had kind of a boring day today, but on the plus side it was nice and sunny for the most part.

I'm away next weekend, so I didn't go out. But I kept repeating in my head, to myself, and I did have to stop and wonder why I felt the need to keep having to justify it.

I was doing ok. Ok-ish. I went to the gym in the evening, and had quite a good session, although I didn't stay until the end. I suppose it's progress of sorts. This time last year I barely stayed third minutes, and just wanted to go home. I saw a pic of T, and it made me feel rubbish. Again. Whooshing in my chest, feeling sick. 

And I wonder, how long. How long is it going to upset me. How long will it continue to be this huge and defining period in my life. I've come so far, and yet days like today remind me there's still such a long way to go. A journey that needs to be made, and to a destination I might never reach. It's so exhausting. 

I saw a house I liked the look of a few weeks ago. It's the next step up on the ladder for me, and although it is slightly over budget, it's still within reach. I mulled it over a little in half-term, but only decided to call the agent this week. I've made an appointment, etc, and I'm meeting with them on Tuesday. And I want it. But part of me thinks it will be gone before I get a look in. 

I want a fresh start. And yet I'm not even sure this will help. I went to my house for a bit today, but it's just not home. And yet it is. I just feel sort of disconnected from it in a way. It sounds silly, it's a house. But in a way I've never really enjoyed living there. The last time I did was before all the bad stuff happened. T's t-shirt is still in the basket in my closet. That probably doesn't help. I think it represents a different time in my life, and try as I might, I just can't seem to get back to it. 

I've committed to doing the windows, and I was going to decorate it over xmas. Now I want a different house. But will it really help? When I saw that picture tonight, it hurt all over again. I want things to go back to the way they were. And my first impulse was to run away. Take a job elsewhere and escape. I still might do that. 

But I suspect what I'm trying to escape is me. And there's not really any way to erase the pain, the hurt and the feelings of failure. Moving away or abroad won't leave those experiences behind. 

Experimenting with phone selfies this morning, I snapped these pics to play around with. Just look at that girl there. She's starting to look old. I look at that picture and wonder how she ended up where she is. 

And why the hell can't she just be happy?