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Waking Up

Harry Haller

Panga Master
SPNer
Jan 31, 2011
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I have been in crisis mode since October, I think in that period, I have had 1 day off, I cannot remember which puppy is which, akin to a father not knowing which of his children is kissing his cheek, although whilst sitting in the bath yesterday, I am sure Rory came up and kissed me, Rory does not do kisses, but I am sure it was Rory, I think I have had enough now, the shop is doing ok, money is ok, we have both built the shop up in the last few months so it can sustain 2 wages, for me and tom, although Tom does not wish for much, it is strange having him round sometimes, forcing me to eat lunch, or making cups of tea, he is a good boy, the best, I dropped him off at a bar the other night, as usual, he hugged me and kissed my cheek as he got out, his friends were watching, but to him it was the most natural thing in the world to do,

watching my stepson makes me remember my parents, I miss them, they are in India, they come back in a few months, I am hoping the shop, the house, and me, I hope we are all settled in some sort of normality by then, well we sure are working towards it

My body is starting to ache, as it always does when I wake up, although my head feels clearer, my chest, where the wires hold my bones together, is always quite sore, and sorer all the more on waking up.

The process is slow, I keep reaching out for Sian in the night, to feel her close to me, I keep ruffling Toms hair, I know that hoards of black dogs are waiting on the horizon, big black dogs with huge eyes, huge sad black eyes, and they will follow me for a while, they will sit on my shoulders, they will sit in front of me and just stare, I have to do this for 60 days to get through this, the living death, the period before you get your own personality back, your true personality, the one with an opinion, or feelings, or even emotions, rather than the circumstance given personality that kicks in crisis times, looking in the mirror, I look like an organic turnip, hair sprouting at random points on my head, beard a good 5 inches, I look like a mad monk, my eyes, my eyes look sad, confused, tired, but you can just make out a tiny sparkle that was not there yesterday, Its raining outside, I walk out and look up, a sparkle in the rain, Im back, again, who knows for how long
 

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