Light thickens..

.. and the crow makes wing to the rooky wood.  Macbeth, I believe.  It's after 6, and already the light is going a bit, and my mood comes crashing down.  I'm wondering if I'll sleep tonight, and considering what time I might legitimately go to bed to watch TV.   The Fox Festival is going on outside - I can hear the Huntsmen's horns.  The sound increases my solitude - one is always alone when depressed.  The trouble is that although I'm alone, I don't want to see anybody apart from a few like minded friends.  Otherwise I have to put on The Face, which is an enormous effort and costly to my state of mind.  TS Eliot wrote about preparing "a face to meet the faces that you meet", and I know what he meant.  I can make the effort, still, but it's getting harder day by day.  And why do I do it anyway?  To meet others' expectations that I will be the life and soul of the party.  So as not to embarrass others by seeming different from my usual self.  To try to clutch at a semblance of normality.  But nothing is normal at the moment - sounds are enhanced, but I don't like silence.  In the silence, my nasty thoughts take over - I go to sleep with the TV in the background so as not to be alone in the dark with only my voices for company.

Lots of people are in the village for the Fox Festival and they pass by my kitchen window - only I know how abnormal I feel.  I can't make the jump to connect with the outside world - I haven't read a newspaper for weeks and I avoid the TV news.  The glass barrier prevents me from reaching out - I can only do that by using this blog.  I haven't even showered today and I'm still in pyjamas so I can go to bed when I feel like it.  My hair is a greasy mess, but I don't care - who is there to notice?

It's really dark now and I've closed the blinds so no one can look in - it must be like viewing lunatics in Bedlam.  I've just had an egg banjo - sorry HT - and I'll post this.  More later.