The End. Or An End?

So it’s over. I made my final trip to Peterborough today, and now I’m home, seeking musical solace in the Prom concert, and wondering what the fuck to do now. With my life.

It’s a grim thought, to realise that I’m now out of work. Unemployed. Or in the contemporary lexicon, an unperson, a nobody. I thought I had escaped that world, one I got to know uncomfortably well in my twenties. It certainly isn’t reassuring to be facing it again in my mid forties. At the moment, my main emotions are an almost toxic mix of resentment, relief, anger and bitterness. Behind this is the softly spoken spectre at the feast, terror. One whose voice will grow louder as the days pass. Terror and an overwhelming feeling of loss; of being at a loss.

For this evening at least, I can put it off. Tomorrow, and for the next few days, I’ll absent myself from thought and worry for a while. And perhaps go away. Try and rebuild my fractured confidence. Rest.

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2 Responses to “The End. Or An End?”

  1. brightonsauce Says:

    Took me just over a year, but then I escaped from a grim govt post, and I might have sat there forever…feel evangelical now.

    Don’t distress yourself, distresses me. I’l follow, then I can read all these old stories of yours. Stay strong.

  2. Jacki Says:

    (((((Hugs))))) Know just how you feel.

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