Long absence due to mental exhaustion from stressful life events. But hopefully things are looking up now.
And then there’s the writer’s block. A number of ideas, but not the words to put them down with.
Spring is almost here and my dream of a house has not come true. The real estate market isn’t playing ball this year. And god knows if I’ll even qualify for a loan with my part-time pay in the future. Optimistic side of me thinks: maybe there is a purpose in that delay. Maybe some other wonderful thing is about to happen for which I need my savings more. But, this isn’t a fairy tale. This is my life. Nothing THAT wonderful ever happens.
At any rate, I feel trapped. Greeting spring in a city flat has always been a painful experience. No less this year. It is like being a bird whose cage has been placed on the terrace. Hearing others rejoice around you, while you may smell and feel, but not fly with them.
Or the flight is such effort that it spoils everything. I could rent a house for spring, but it is not the same. I could walk outside and admire other gardens and public parks, but it is not the same. I can’t just lie down under a lilac tree and expect to get away with it. Passers-by would interfere, thinking I was drunk or had an accident. So much for romance.
Point is, as much as I love spring, its arrival is always painful. More painful each year that I cannot express my love for it in the manner that my heart most wishes.