I used to have another anonymous blog, full of terrible stuff, and I kind of drifted away from it for a year. When I tried to find it again I realised I couldn’t remember what it was called, like not even an inkling. Blank. And the email was anonymous set up with the same name. I didn’t write any of it down to not leave any trace. Now it’s gone. Just gone. Weird.
It was full of longing for (somewhat) unrequited love for someone who went off and quited her love with someone wholly unexpected and not a little depressing. I never felt such emotion in my life, honestly, until that moment I used to say that emotions were for the weak, or that I didn’t have emotions, or experienced them differently from other people, as I couldn’t for the life of me work out why the hell everyone acted so crazy all the time about stupid emotions. Then that. And I got it. And it took me perhaps a year or two to get over it, until it faded, so that now it’s not there, even when I look at photos. But the thing is, I’ve never experienced them since, the feels that is. Just back to numb every day. I wonder if, for me at least, they’re just like a one-time-burn process, where they plunder and ravage their way through my brain and scorch all the pathways so much that they are never accessed again. Maybe. It feels like that.
So the old blog, it had all this writing, about this emotion, that now seems again so weird and remote and unbelievable, so I wanted it back, to read it and see.
Ah well. Back to the red wine then.
(I should say here that I’m like 50 years old, not a youngling, so it’s not just a youth thing, sadly...)
