I’ve been working a lot lately so haven’t been writing. There doesn’t seem to be anything to say. Ironic really as I’ve been in a dark hole, a transit space waiting for the world to light up and everything make sense again, the sort of place where ideas and thoughts are tumbling over each other in a constant analytical thought process.
No particular reason, just one of those grey times. Perhaps there is a tedious mid life crisis in the mix that makes me wander down various ‘what if’ alternate time lines that see me with children/husband/profession (and in those parallel time lines I would probably also be a tad flat, and also be exploring various junctures and turning points of my life).
There have been quite a few deaths of my peers recently. No one massively close to me. Not deaths that devastate my world, just chip away at it and leave it in a different shape.
The thing is, these are the times when I should write. Okay, it probably wouldn’t be for public consumption (hash tag mid life angst) but it would ease off the heaviness of the dark mantle and make the possibility of colour seeping back into my life, less remote.