27 th.October.

27 October
Eye continued to give me hassle so had an early night, after scrubbing, scraping and generally rubbing my eye, I bathed it and went to bed about 9.
Woke up this morning and eye was stuck together surrounded by what seemed to be hundreds of small pieces of debris which had no doubt seeped out during the night.
It still isn’t right but better than yesterday.

Weather is grey and oppressive, I have no life in me, feel drained.

I could easily have gone back to bed at 9 this a.m. but warmed room up in an effort to infuse some feeling of willing to face the day.
The flat has become messy again, a simple hour’s work would see it put right but as said I haven’t the energy.
My right knee is hurting with every movement, must have adopted an awkward position when I was asleep.
A refreshing shower would no doubt do the trick of breathing life into me,
but as yet have no plans to install one.

I hate this time of year when things begin to die and the days are long and dark, ambition nil.

I have no idea how I’m going to occupy myself this autumn and winter;
I haven’t really set myself a task save stopping smoking and getting a little fitter,
both objectives are running out of time and impetus.

The sight through my right eye is misty and grey,

I polish the lens of my specs knowing full well the action will not make any improvement.

I think today will drift into oblivion the same as recent days have done.
I need to have a reason to do things; personal satisfaction is no reward.
I see no sense in tidying up because no one is expected to call and I don’t mind the odd mess, dishes in sink and kitchen littered with discarded tins.

My mind is active but not productive in the sense of anything-worthwhile coming out of effort.
Perhaps I have grown weary of following the carrot of ambition.
Sick of been beaten with the stick of everyday living.
Whatever the reason my will to live is weak,
I’m not sufficiently depressed to feel suicidal just feeling in a rut of tedium.
There is too much baccy left to finish in one session so whatever I do I’ll be waking up to temptation.
I wish the baccy to be finished yet know I’ll miss it when it has been dispatched.

Perhaps today would be a good day for a drink? But I know that I’ll feel no different after having it.
In the back of my mind I suspect the medication is acting upon the pleasure centre of my brain and actions I used to get reactions from like smoking gear or drinking no longer produce an effect.

Pleasure eludes me and I’m running out of ideas.

To do something or learn something worthwhile each day has been my target to strive for,
yet some days like today I haven’t the energy to put into any effort.
For energy read thirst for life, I have no desire.

Knowing full well that an hour spent tidying up followed by a wash and shave would change my surroundings and the way I feel isn’t enough to get me into action.
Am I wallowing in self-pity or just feeling run down? I know not.
I have to come to grips with these feelings of?
Its not melancholy, lethargic and feeling worthless,
annoyed at not being able to snap out of it, looking for companionship in a bottle or a joint.

I think of mornings spent abroad, early beers and full breakfast in the warmth of the growing sun.
Sitting beside a pool waiting for the sun to warm it up,

The sounds I listen to ask nothing of the listener, no action whatsoever,
just lilting sounds which flow over one’s person.

In my stomach there is a wanting to be active, like an embryo of a thought but the majority of my body is against any such activity and so I remain still.

Do I recognise such a frame of mind as being depressed, perhaps I am and therefore should take some action to snap out of it but what?
I drink the remnants of a two-day-old can of lager, walk to the fridge and pull out the last remaining can.

I toddle down the stairs to retrieve my mail, read same and am informed my credit balance is now zero, thanking me for payments received, my finances are in order and under control,
no signs of manic behaviour with the credit card.

I roll yet another rollie, making seven this morning and smoke it while drinking.

THERE HAS TO BE MORE TO LIFE THAN WASTING TIME WRITING ABOUT HOW BORING IT IS!

Saying the above, I bet there are numerous people now at work who would love to be in the same position, they would term it is having a day off and chilling
Perhaps I expect too much from life,
As I do from entertainment.
On days like these in moods like this it’s hard to find anything positive to write about.

Emotions, ideas and feeling all flash through my head at breakneck speed; too fast to capture, none worthy of note.

My eye starts to play me up again as I struggle to see the keyboard and the written word on the monitor; perhaps it’s the amount of smoke in the room,
I’ve set the fire alarm off twice in the last two days just by smoking!

I sit in my chair, piles of rubbish either side of me, one pile consists of discarded mail and the other empty crisp packets and cans.
A bottle of spirits may indeed help me to sleep through the day but being a depressant it would do nothing to lift my mood, and it’s the mood that is important,

I’ve took my tablets which are supposed to stabilise my moods yet don’t give any direct help in facing the world.
If I was rich and successful I may well be having a couple of snifters during the day but here I am a dole Waller,
why should I be worth anything more than a drinker of cheap cider?

I shave, brush my neglected teeth, change and venture forth into the pouring rain.
A bottle of teachers and one of lemonade is sufficient for supermarket.

While I was in the village I called and collected my prescription and called into butchers for sausage roll and steak pie for afters.
Sausage roll will provide roughage if drink too much.
Do I have a drink problem?
No it slips down easily, smooth as silk.

I don’t drink myself into oblivion like I used to do, but enjoy a few shorts to get me either relaxed or in the mood to return to bed for a while.
Drinking on ones own is totally different to enjoying a drink with some one else.
My friend Ash and I used to share a bottle or two and then crash,
usually awakening to take on a new day.

I feel better now,
I’ve done the chores of collecting tablets from chemist and have had something to eat, bought something for later as a basis to a good meal,
I pour another measure.
Before travelling to the shop I once again re-stuck the rear view mirror onto the windscreen, hopefully it will last a while longer before dropping off again.
I put on my sloppy Joe jumper and feel the heat of the radiator warm up the room;
feet are cold, possibly because shoes are wet.

My right knee has decided to stay half out of joint and is proving to be a little painful but in my mood the pain is not pressing enough to cause distress.
Second whisky slips down and I begin to hic cup, alcohol fighting with puff pastry of sausage roll, which in all fairness was consumed all to quickly!

I have a room to live in which can easily be kept warm,

I have a seat to sit in which is reasonably comfortable,

I have money in the bank and in my pocket,

I have a smoke and a drink, relaxing sounds and a keyboard and monitor to keep me amused.

I have sufficient clothing to wear for most occasions.

There’s a large picture in which to lose myself; and a few ornaments to look at.

A speaker system, which despite its low price gives out a decent sound.

I installed a new Internet player yesterday and the volume and clarity are different from that which accompanies xp.
Whisky has played several acting roles in my life,
Afternoons spent in Scottish bars sampling the top shelf to days despondently drinking to get intoxicated.

I now realise its no good trying to blame any one for my sectioning because anyone who cared for me would have to go along them lines, that was the only way help could have been given to me.
I have always been a rebel in as much as I shun socialising, preferring one to one or drinking on my own.

I now sit quite content with bottle of imitation malt and lemonade.
Enough baccy to see me through session and in comfortable relaxing surroundings.
What more could I do to make life acceptable?

I know full well that some would say I’m a waste of space and to pass the time as I do is disgustingly wasteful but I choose to have days when all is forgotten and I try to put my world to rights.
I’m not interested in the news and putting the outside world to rights; just the sphere I live in.

I close my eyes and the sounds flutter against my eyelids like the beating of a moth’s wings.
Bird song heralds the ending of the song and I listen as I did in Scotland to the background of bird song.
I feel released from the room.
My lower back burns with the pain but I resist the pressure to recognise it.
Opting instead to drain the glass.
Whisky. Good whisky, I can drink all day and night,
I’ve spent many a night in pubs tasting the top shelf.
It comes on quite quickly but takes its time to say adieu.

I need to wake up in a positive mood one of these days,
when that will be I have no knowledge, but wake up I will, I’m sure.

I will get out of my current state and spread my wings whilst embracing new and exciting prospects.
I feel as if I have been cocooned by my break down and am only now coming to a point of release.
Energy from within the body is hard to release and restrain,
To create a balance is even harder.