knights and days

December 7, 2011

Had a minor breakdown-and-sobbing fit at work on Monday, unable to stop over the flags I was stringing down a rope, frantic and haphazard. Panic and terror. I haven’t- been like that, not for at least a year.

I haven’t been that stressed for at least a year. Or for long enough to forget (which isn’t very long at all). I- work is getting, more onerous, taking more out of me. I’m losing the time I wanted to breathe, the space I need. I don’t like this.

Two jobs. It might be getting too much. Nothing much I can do about it, though-

mph. Watching Dr Who, in slow episodes. I think why I- like this, the Eleventh, so much- is the compassion he has. The enormous kindness of the Doctor. He can’t bear to stand by and hear children cry.

Whatever speaks to justice and compassion (big words, big- themes, and I’m exhausted inside and out and tightly bundled up and I can feel the edge of crying still, the edge of panic, reawoken on the bottom edge of my breathing- it’ll go, it’ll go, it just- I didn’t realise it had even gone, only realised when it came back- )

speaks to me, in the burning inside. Something that rights wrongs. I was born to be a knight, apparently. Perhaps we all were.

I need time to unwind.

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