Sick

Monday again. I walk the Ting back to her house like I always do. Decide to take the long way back: through the green. Just to sort myself out with some time alone in the fresh air.

Early October. Yet it's so cold that my breath disappears into the thick fog covering the green. Floating orbs of light send rays through the trees like they do in horror films.

Trees sigh. I sigh. And the cold night wind stirs up my thoughts and emotions. I'm angry at myself. Frustrated at other people.

Wind blows again. Lifts my spirit outwards and upwards for a brief moment. How nice it would be to haunt the world as a weightless floating spectre with neither aim nor direction.

Busy roundabout. I cross it. And the usual desire to jump in front of the oncoming car is unusually strong.

I want to feel alive. And the only way is to lose life itself first. In that few seconds, when realization smacks you right in the face before the car does, you know you're alive.

It's late. Training ends late all the time. People take their own fucking time to leave. I've got tonnes to do. And it's late. My head is spinning. And I'm just so.sick.of.everything.