I know people care for me. I know it like I know the sun will rise tomorrow. So why, late at night when I'm still up and everyone else has sensibly gone to bed... why do I feel such a sense of abandonment? It's ridiculous. But I just feel so alone. I was never good at being alone, despite being so used to it. Spent most of my childhood and adolescence alone. That doesn't mean I have to like it. Perhaps that's why I've always kept a diary or journal of some sort - just a vague need to communicate with someone, anyone... even if it's nobody really. Nobody reads the notebooks gathering dust in my cupboard (thank god), and few people read these words that I type and send out into cyberspace. But typing them fills a void.
It's now officially the 28th. That makes it one month of Jon-ness. It has been a good month. No, a great month. Despite everything. It is an official month of greatness. I've been listening to Allan too much - the "vouchers of casualness" and the "weather of coldness". It's been a strange month - I've been ill, had incredibly bad eczema, relatives of friends have died, and I got in trouble at work. Yet I can still say it's been a great month. Thanks Jon! :)