As I drive to work, I’m halted in traffic so slow that I can type. Illegal I know, but I couldn’t care less.
In my sleepless night of spasms I plot my demise. Where best to crash my car, to maximum effect, without endangering anyone else.
These are not happy or normal thoughts, but they are thought coldly without any emotion.
Neither is it a cry for attention, as I consider my terminal act of no significance. Though a tear is rolling down my right cheek, which has now become several.
Will it be today? No. It’s my daughters’ first day at school, and I wouldn’t want to take the edge off that.
Why the change in my mood ( almost ‘buoyant’ of late ! )?
I can write about nearly everything, but not all publicly.
But there is someone responsible for this.