It’s been months since I’ve moved out of the flat. And I am beginning to realise how far I’m away from my previous existence, so far that I don’t think I can go back anymore. Yet living under someone else’s roof is crushing, no matter how kind the family has been.
I think it’s time to go, and I desperately want to go away, but I don’t know where. Where should Starkey and I stay once I have the means to live alone? I don’t know. Despite how well I’d doing, there are times I’ll suddenly remember why I slipped into depression in the first place. If only adjustment isn’t such a dastardly word.
Filed under: humdrum
