Journal 17th 18th Oct
Crashed and burned today.
Overwhelm of tears and loneliness that I can't even be arsed writing about it. Composed a huge and dramatic note to tell green eyes the truth and not to write back to me. German friend said don't send it. Wait and see.
LB phoned in the evening and said don't go there.
Both agree mixed messages have been sent and it's hard not to read anything into it, but don't go there.
Doesn't seem worth the energy, but it was cathartic writing it out.
Had a whisky mac and went to bed.
Last period, ever.
That explains it then.
Not love, just hormones.
That's a relief.
Is loneliness a thought or a feeling?
I don't actually remember making any.
Apart from what to eat next.
I do feel a promiscuous time ahead. Kali is bursting at the seams, v. pissed off at having to wait until Spring. Sap rising and all that.
Perhaps I won't stop emailing.
I've done the soul mate bit, it ain't working out. I feel a spiral helix of spells coming on, and it's nothing to do with love.
That's a mugs game.
Green eyes. Be careful. You're first on the list. Might even pluck a gardener for an afternoon.
God is not the only one who can dance.
Full of the joys today thinking of who I'd haunt first if I died. Obviously there is a certain dream home which would have some major poltergeist activity for a wee while.
And the overwhelming thought in my head is to go to Findhorn in the Spring. Give up this shite job, take a break and go. Do the Foundation Program, get it out my system. It pops up everywhere. V's of geese. Go to Findhorn. Smell of wood smoke. Go to Findhorn. Lonely ache. Go to Findhorn. Need for a hug. Go to Findhorn.
Sell everything, except my crystals obviously, buy a white beetle and just go.
It's called laluna.
My white beetle.
The one that's coming to me.
In the Spring.
I did a spell to draw the money to me, for my beetle.
Standard Life sent me a form, they are demutualizing. Could be it. The Beetle fund.
It is freezing today. That hand of cold that claws up your back and freezes your shoulders, taking your breath. Feeding your fear. The kind of cold that needs a hug.
Or a sweater and the fire put on.
LB is crashing and burning too. A dream collapsing, of a summer off and I want to say come and live with me. Give up your shite job and move in. It's what we both need.
Just do it.
But I don't.
Coz it's not right. There's something missing.
I say he's welcome to come and visit anytime and leave it at that.