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If it rains, it pours.

I think I’m going to skootch back into my little hidey-hole.

More of a mental fortress. Taking many years to design and build where the walls are made up of seven foot thick, solid defence mechanisms and piercing, vitriolic comments.

No drama, no finding workable solutions, nothing.

One drama at a time is just about workable for me currently.

Five separate dramas involving those I care about, in addition to the tasks I started when “on one” and haven’t yet completed.
Oh, and hard landscaping my garden (again) looks like a building site. A bit disheartening.

I can understand how folk run and hide in alcohol and drugs. I haven’t yet but feel closer to giving it a whirl.
It’s one option I suppose.
I think if I start I won’t stop.
This has me thinking twice about diving head first into a drug fuelled holiday from reality.

Daybreak tomorrow is the start of a brand new day. I have the whole day to do something to help myself (not others)

Just need to dig out a script that politely and delicately means the same as f*ck off.

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Author
Gracey
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1 min read
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