Well, Monday's here. Oh joy, oh rapture, oh...brother. Ah well, made it though the long dull weekend.

The question is, when did my life change so much, that the most important thing in my life all weekend, was new curtains? Man, I really am getting old, aren't I?

It's a bit strange, as well.

I mean, going from a world of continual crisis, pain and upheaval--to nothing.

I suppose it's a bit like a lone holidaymaker, coming home from the most fabulous and exciting holiday he or she has ever had--and then being grounded by a blizzard or fog or whatever, at the airport for days on end. Or, like the time I was a stablehand--loved my job--couldn't wait to get there in the morning, always hung around after work...then, one day, I got hurt, and the owner also had a massive coronary and died instantly. And then, the stable closed, and it was back to unemployemnt and flat on my back with--thankfully minor--nerve damage for months on end.

You get in this groove--either negative or positive---and then..everything just stops. And where are you, then? It feels kind of funky, let me tell you.

Someone asked me the other day why I refused to date--why I didn't have a guy in my life--or much of anyone else, I should amend.

Simple. Easy-peasy. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me. It's that basic. I am far too aware of how hard it can be, sometimes, to live with me. Heck, I can be hard to live with myself, sometimes, ha-ha.

But seriously, I simply don't see how anyone would even want to live around me. Can't even picture that in my mind. Really, it's inconceiveable to me that anyone would go out of his way--or her way, even--to want to be around me on an intimate basis. It hasn't happened in 46 years, and I don't forsee it ever happening. It's not easy being manic depressive, and...well, I'm a bit of an idiot, sometimes. And my social skills are a bit backwards, probably. Oh, I can manage at a party or in a group okay, but can't say that anyone's ever flocked to me, to hear what I've to say. Not gonna' happen. And, truthfully, I'm too aware that I'm a bottom-feeder, career-wise. I'm never going to amount to much, I'm always likely to be poor, and I'm just plain nothing special--a very unglamourous, low-income chav--nobody, that's me--but then, lots of people are like that, and there's worse things, I suppose. I'm not feeling sorry for myself when I say this. I'm perfectly, soberly, serious. Despite youthful dreams, this is where life's chucked me, and..that's that. This is what there is, this is all there is.