Say what?

Monday, May 26 - The Soloc already done what I just done. You already dunnit! My pea brain, my little pea brain forgot what you already done. You dunnit. Already. You.

If I weren't gripping onto my sanity as ferociously as I am, I fear I could lose it soon. So, you've already written to me about 'Letter to D' - fancy that! Well, fancy that. Let's dismiss the likelihood that somewhere there in my subconscious mind, I was drawn to this story because it was one that you've already told me about. After all, we are the two c's and the two peas.

I went through a box of stuff today
Letters photos tapes notes recordings
Voices, LM, voices.

I am nursing my sanity, baby. This is no time for a meltdown. Dreaming of suicidal maidens from days of old, thinking apocolyptic thoughts. Deciding in an instant that motherhood is not something that I want anymore (after a lifetime of being sure it is). I am mad me. I really should have been born a tree. I act like one. Change with the seasons. Late autumn sees me bare and cold. Cave dwelling and bored into melancholy. I wait in almost frozen anticipation for the onset of Spring so that I may flourish. (Everything is a sphere.)

I am reading two books - Till We Have Faces by CS Lewis, and Motherless Brooklyn by Johnathan Lethem.