I'm home now after 3,800 miles of driving around the pacific northwest over two weeks. At times it was a fantastic holiday and some great photos will likely appear when I can get them.
However something, as always. overshadows this. I can't talk about it explictly as it's not my choice to. Either way my life is continuing behind a facade that is slowly crumbling. I try, I really try to care about things but I can't anymore.
I just can't.
Life shouldn't be about fucking memories, it should be about hope, excitement, joy - anything other than blind obedience to the party line that we all 'had a good innings'. It shouldn't be about what we did, what we lived through, who we once saw, who we saw do what. It should be about who we are. What we're going to do. Where we're going to go.
It should be but it isn't.
I have to be strong. I have to avoid the reality of the situation and be strong. I'm a thousand tonnes of rock supported by the sheer willpower of a thousand matchsticks. I cannot break, or rather I cannot break externally. I cannot allow it.
I may never return here, for which I apologise. Know only that I would not do this lightly.
On the other hand, I might be back next week. Keep 'em guessing and all that.