I feel quite today. It started yesterday afternoon and as it did, I felt bad. being quite feels like the best way to deal with it. It’s almost like knowing that it will help. I have no problem with being alone and I’m not lonely – they are different. Sometimes I don’t like some people and sometimes I think to myself that I cannot escape them. I can, but I think I can’t. I realise that it is silly to know something but act like you don’t.
It’s depression. It’s a dramatic eventual realism. A black dog, some call it a sickness. You know, It’s really my friend, and it’s also my terribly enemy. My relationship is that varying moderation. It keeps me sane but it makes me feel bad. I can overcome – I always do. I try to stay away from it and not embrace it because its dangerous to me.
Sometimes London is on my mind, the city streets, the paper blowing on the streets, the rain falling on the street ,the people on the streets, the faces, the rush to work, the ignoring of everyone of everything. When I go quite, I notice the music in my mind is missing. I notice the decorations on the buildings, the stickers on shop windows, worn places on the floor, signs in stations, people’s faces, their shoes, their clothes and where they are. I don’t know why but I know they are there. There is a lot of waiting on the tube, preparing and ignoring. Maybe it’s ok.