Not much happening today. It’s grey, it’s miserable outside, and my mood is reflecting the sorry state of the weather. I thought of sharing a couple of pieces of creative writing that I’ve just done, drawing on inspiration from meeting others of similar outlook.
First, I had to pick a lyric from the Abba song Chiquitita. Here’s what I came up with:-
All is gone, and it’s too hard to handle (Written on the 15th February)
I had it all. Family, car, a steady job, good friends. Then one day, the arse fell out of my world. No family, no car, no money, no job, friends gradually waving goodbye from the quayside as depression and anxiety took hold.
Yep, from hero to zero. When I had a job and some money, people wanted to talk to me, to know me, to welcome me into their social circles. Now that has considerably lessened. I’m probably not worth talking to or interesting enough to bother with.
And what of me now? Writing this short story, on a dull, dreary afternoon, in my one bedroom council flat. It was Valentines Day yesterday. There don’t seem to be too many people wanting to love me. Most of my romantic efforts have ended badly, some of my own making, some not. But I shall never forget a certain person I fell in love with, and married. She made me the nobody I am today. The person struggling to survive on my own, with mild Autism.
I do sometimes go out and try and meet other people, a damn sight more interesting than me. Like the people at this creative writing class. I turned up last week and haven’t laughed so much in ages, especially at a clever lady called Scarlet. Could I start to become interesting?
The title of this pithy tale is All is Gone, and it’s too hard to handle. That’s my last nine years in a nutshell. All gone, through the trap door, into Room 101. Everyday is a battle, a scrap, a determination to continue, and I shall, until it seems too hard to handle anymore.