I can’t believe it’s been over nine months now since my long-term relationship broke up. I realised it the other day and thought - “sheesh, that’s enough time to have had a baby!” It’s one of the more annoying facts of life that the older you get, the quicker time seems to go. As they say, youth is wasted on the young.
Foxtrot Charlie is still on the scene, albeit more on the periphery of my vision than in the spotlight. Charlie has his demons and he lets them come between us. Me, I just go with the flow. What else can I do? He’s currently trying to kill himself with Bells Whiskey. He turned up on my doorstep two weeks ago in the middle of a thunderstorm, dripping wet and inebriated. I finally said to him what I’ve been wanting to say for a couple months now - “There are quicker ways of killing yourself and if you want, we can google to see just how many ways there are.”

Rather than take offense, he opened up. It sucks to be that person who has passed this virus on to others, unknowingly. Guilt is a corrosive acid and mixed with Bells, it’s a slowly lethal cocktail. There’s nothing I can do about it, except be there in the middle of a thunderstorm when a man, empty and hurting, turns up at the door.

And yet to see him in the pub, you’d think he was the happiest man on earth. Life and soul of the party. I know otherwise. I hate knowing but at the same time I’m glad I know. He allows me to see his vulnerable side and to me that says, “I love you” louder than any words ever could.
My latest addiction is reading. Been going through nearly a book a day lately and “thank goodness for charity shop books” is all I can say. I’d be broke by now otherwise. In between reading I do my thing on the forum (NO RISK!) and I write in my journal. My journal is old-fashioned pencil and paper and largely unfit for human consumption. I’m in the process of figuring out how to sanitize it into blog-fodder. Wish me luck.