Praying

I haven't been doing that well in the last couple of days. With K gone away, I find the days very empty. I go to work and am adequately distracted by it, but find it difficult to concentrate.

But the real dread comes in when I am finished and there is the long train commute home. Perhaps worst of all of it is the walk from the train station, a half-hour plod through the dark town, past all the walled gardens and closed gates. All the houses containing happy inmates. Dogs barking at me. How many times I've wanted to just sit down in the middle of the street and not move. Or shoot one of those goddamned dogs.

The chores of the day, the getting up, the making tea, the eating food, the showering, the blowdrying and face-painting, the dressing, then the walk and the train. Arrive at the office, surf the net, find something to write about.

Then the usefulness of the day is over and I'm left in my own care again.

Frankly, the fate of the world is coming to seem less important every day.

I couldn't read on the train this morning. I had brought my book, (about archaeology in Britain) but didn't even take it out of my handbag. I stared out the windows without seeing anything.

The thoughts? Oh yes. I suppose.

I matter to no human being on earth. Imagine one's existence having not the slightest impact on another person.

But the fact is that I have no right to complain. My situation is of my own creation.

I have an enemy in our social circle, (an odd sensation for anyone past high school age) who has decided to condemn me for immorality. It doesn't matter the details. He's right, of course, but doesn't know why. What he thinks I have done are not in fact the things for which I deserve punishment. I have had the strangest urge lately to tell him exactly what those things are. To give him a list. It keeps coming back to me.

Imagining this conversation, these words ran through my mind again and again on this morning's train ride, as the fields and palm trees and little towns flicked past: "there are two people for whom I was an actual necessity, and I betrayed them. There are two more for whom I was of material importance, and I betrayed them too. All four of them are dead. I know know exactly what I deserve, to the dregs of the cup, and you, sir, can add nothing whatever to that."

I have often said that I feel as if I don't exist. This is not really true. I am only too aware of my own existence, but can find no reason for it whatever. There isn't anyone at all whose lives would be substantially altered at my disappearance.

I find I am praying for the honourable out.