Thursday, 13 April 2017

Connie. The Tower

I've known since the first moment we shut ourselves in, and I knew we were committed, that The Tower wasn't right for me. I didn't pack. I laughed a lot. Carelessly threw a few things in a couple of bin-liners as if I'd be back in a week. Those who knew me best said I was in denial, maybe I was. I guess when your gut tells you something, you ought to believe yourself not just blame excitement or nerves. I couldn't see it. I couldn't see myself planting crops out there, nor entertaining in those rooms, or writing anywhere. I can't see them, growing in this house.

If someone asked me what's wrong with it, I could list off a few things, but really, it's not something I can pinpoint. I can only say...this isn't Connie, and I have tried so very hard to make it so, in my head and my heart but I can't. It's not here. This isn't where I should be. I think a part of me has seen into the future, seen what's to come and I know how it should feel.

I don't miss everything about Connie, I don't miss my four walls of childhood.

I just miss the feeling of coming home.

I haven't come home since August.

Everything will change again September this year. Everything always restarts in September. I have no intention of still being here by then. I'll cut my path back to Connie, I'll make sure it works out. Jones will be with me, he's always on my side where it counts. At least that's the one constant thing in my life. Here it's an oubliette but Jones never forgets me.

Connie poem April

Have I left my notebook with you Connie?
Did I leave behind the story?
I can't find my way to write the rest
I've lost something along this way.
Did you laugh when I turned my back from you?
Did you know I'd left a box behind?
When did you look up and miss me?
Is it my heart or my soul I can't find?
I found my church in you,
but lost my faith up here.
When we move along to somewhere new
I'll walk through a hundred doors...
I'm still looking for you.

Poem. 12

The walls of the tower are all chalky white,
the doors are white too
A blank canvas, no one has bothered to paint
Feels like an oubliette, a place where things are forgotten
So often, that's how it feels: Forgotten.

Blue wisps outside illuminate a potential path back
but a dead end is all they lead to.
A back window frames a slightly overgrown lie
misguided image of something that this is not.

I can't see them here,
no adventures out in that green
no Christmas steps on those stairs
that's all the proof I need- when it's wrong it's wrong.

Is it death? That stains this crisp clean place?
I don't think so...there's too much Alone, to be haunted.
A presence would be welcome, if they stayed for tea.
It's just an emptiness, that's all
.Emptiness filled by other peoples noise.
My own drowned out.
Is this why I can't write? Did I leave my ability with Connie?

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

Decisions, Decisions

Ever since I achieved what should have been a great accomplishment I've felt as if I signed myself away into a series of bad experiences. Like looking forward to a movie for over a year because the Trailer looked ace, and then the movie is a shambles.

 I'm drained and my positivity is ebbing away bit by broken bit.

If I'd known then, what I know now...I think I would not have bothered applying. That said, maybe I really should hand it back. Can I get away with that? Hi Guys, I don't want this anymore, it's pants, can I be downgraded back to six months ago? Thanks!

The once bubbly atmosphere in the place has deteriorated I think, the family feel has died, and now I'm sat here thinking...I'm no good at this superior position. It's maybe not for me after all. I gave it a good go. I've certainly put in 100% effort and I've really tried, tried coming at this challenge from all angles, but none of it seems to have worked. Every week I feel a little more of myself fade away and now that people are noticing, I can't ignore that I am not my bubbly happy self. I'm not happy for eight hours a day.

Five months now I've been doing this, it's gone by fast but doesn't time always do that? Every week I tell myself, this week all will go smoothly and everything will be fine, but then something happens and it's not fine. I wish my old supervisor was around so I could ask her advice, I feel sure she'd have something to contribute to my thought process.

I miss my old routine, because I now feel like I've just gotten to that point where I'm really good at my OLD job. I've nailed it down to a T and I miss doing it. I really need to make a decision on this, I need a glimpse of the next 6 months to help me decide what I'm going to do.

If there was an outer world being - they would offer some guidance right about now. In the form of a dream or premonition or anything! Send me a sign. What shall I do? I'm getting really fed up of asking this question.