I was driving into work this morning after a horrific day of dwarfs mining for coal in my head, and I was trying to connect that today is somewhere past the middle of May. That in about 45 days we'd be in the second half of 2009. That in about 4 weeks time I would be making my 1st working trip to trapsy around Ireland.
And I wondered, how did the world change so much in a matter of months? What kind of forces were behind it, moving so steathly and strong that it toppled life as I knew it over?
My head is still not quite itself - I should know. I nearly tripped over my foot thrice today, and only 40 pages into a new book, I can feel the tiptoeing feet of the dwarfs coming back in again; the hinge of the back door of my head creaking that just tale-tell wee bit.
Yet there is this desperate need to unclog my grey matter of grey matters.
Am I the only to feel that life has become somewhat isolated? That I've become the girl who lived in a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world, screaming at the top of her lungs, yet no one hears her? Wanting to reach out and connect so badly with the rest of the world, knowing that if she does, the bubble would burst, sending her spiralling to the ground at break-neck speed?
*Poo* Bubble, rubble, trouble.
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