day one hundred and ninety-nine - drip

As the days go by, I find myself living a more reclusive life. To be fair, with what’s been happening with the coronavirus, it makes sense; keeping away from crowded places, limiting time out of the home, resisting the urge to lick handrails and cough on our elders. It’s the kind of thing that I would hope all civically minded people would do. At least I get to wear a real mask, rather than the one that so often covers how I’m really feeling on the inside.

But beside doing the responsible thing and doing my civic duty, I’ve withdrawn from family, friends, and much of the outside world. Withdrawn from so many methods of communication that have the potential to fill every waking moment and dam the nights with untold unread messages and notifications ready to flood you when you wake.

That’s the more worrying aspect. There’s no balance, and I’m not coping well at the moment. It seems the scales tip so very easily and I’m backed up as far as I can go from the fulcrum to harness every bit of mechanical advantage. And still… it keeps dripping on the other side. And with each day, each negative or errant thought, each regret of not reaching out or replying, it drips again.

Again, I know it’s temporary, but it feels incessant, and regardless of where the drips come from, it’s all weight.

Kilt of the day - Mackay

Soundtrack of the day - The Weight - The Band
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFqb1I-hiHE

Also… Day 17 of Dry July so that’s not too shabby.
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