Dear
November
I'm feeling
as though I've neglected you a little. I
didn't get to writing to you yesterday and today… well… I'm filled with a
terrible sense of apathy. Not towards
writing per se but towards doing anything that doesn't involve me turning on my
TV or starting at TED Talks. Watched a
cracker about the Gay Agenda whilst I had something to eat.
I've come to
get in bed and write this to you, just to me more comfortable. I don’t seem to be able to settle for the
last few days. I'm feeling slightly on
edge, more so today. I had some
exceptionally good news today about the health of a loved one. And whilst this news is more than welcome
(Any time the prospect of bad news is beaten down and triumphed over by good is
a welcome time indeed *clink glasses*) I can’t help but feel edgy. The horrible thing about secretly wondering
and shunning bad news is that when I don’t get it, I don’t know what to do with
myself. I can’t stress enough that I
wouldn't ever want the bad news; that’s not it.
I hope you understand me, November.
You of all,
I would hope would understand being misunderstood; you’re my month after all.
I’ll leave
you with a song.
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