Two years today I drove back from
a different person. Yes, two years and I’m still trying to define who that
different person is. I can hardly believe it. Of course not finding a proper
job has been a disappointment. It’s hard to accept that after so much nobody
really wants you. I’ve come close, very close, but no cigar - maybe it’s time
to give up smoking. I’ve tried lots of things, hoping to bring back whoever I
was or find whoever I am, but none of them have quite worked and I’m running
out of ideas. Sometimes it’s like my identity has been stolen, it’s like I have
lost my soul, become a shadow. Sometimes it’s like time passes but without me
really involved in its passing like a scarecrow in a field; a not quite person
passing for a person. I don’t like it. Sometimes (often) I don’t like myself.
Sometimes everything seem increasingly pointless, I feel unable to make a
difference. Instead, I just get on with it. A plain man, in a plain world, just
getting on with it. I stick to my routines, find refuge where I can, take
solace in the simple. I Sleep. I Eat. I Drink. All the things us scarecrows do.
It’ll change one day I expect.
There, one for me.